Converge
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

**A/N: **I love you guys, I do. I got a couple pms asking me if I was going to post this story from LJ on here and I initially said no. But then I went back to re-read it about 2 days ago and was overwhelmed by the amount of grammatical errors that story had. So, thanks guys! I would not have caught that otherwise. I have a big soft spot for this fic because it was the first story that I had written unprompted—_**I Remember Our Love **_started out as a prompt. So, _**Converge **_feels like my baby and to hopefully redeem my slightly younger self—I originally wrote this story between June 26, 2010 – October 1, 2010—I want to edit the hell out of it and post it on here. I can't post it all in one go because I don't have time to sit down and edit it all. But here's the prologue for now and this is my promise that it'll all be edited and hopefully posted in a timely fashion.

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><p>Quinn Thomas awakes to the blaring sound of her alarm clock on the night stand. She really fucking hates Monday mornings. Reaching out, she blindly swings at the offense, knocking it onto the floor and to its death. Whatever. It was shitty at keeping time anyway.<p>

She arises from bed, stretching her limbs while running a lethargic hand through her hair. Hazel eyes scan the room before locking onto the body of her husband in bed next to her. He was taking up more than his fair share, something he did often. And he was also snoring. Something else he did often.

Shaking her head, she walks out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. She stands in front of the full length mirror, doing an inspection of herself as she takes stock of her life. It's something she does often.

Quinn is still young, only twenty-three. Her hair is still long and blonde, veiling her with an air of innocence and youthfulness. But there are subtle differences about her. Her face has lost some of the softness that was associated with her sixteen year old self. Her cheek bones protrude a little more, her face is a little angular, sharper. Her eyes are more piercing, calculating. Her shoulders are tighter and always held high. Everything about her screams confidence and aloofness.

"You should smile more."

Her eyes widen in some semblance of surprise as she turns to the bathroom door. "What are you doing up?" she asks. Her husband, Kenneth, offers a small smile as he walks into the bathroom. He bypasses her by the mirror to walk over to the sink. "How could I not be? This is a big day." He reaches into a cabinet above the sink and grabs a washcloth. "This is the day you finally get rid of me," he says before turning the water on.

She watches like a hawk as he wets the cloth before pressing it to his face. She doesn't respond. Instead, she walks out of the bathroom and decides to use the one in the guest room.

Making it to the guest bathroom, she goes about her morning routine. She grabs a new toothbrush from under the sink and brushes her teeth. Grabbing a white, guest washcloth, she walks over to the shower, turning it on. She slowly undresses; her mind elsewhere. Her body is lean from hours of rigorous workouts. It helps relieve any tension her day provides and helps control any emotions she may be feeling. Because Quinn Thomas knows control. She can keep her cool under any situation. It proves to be both a gift and a curse.

Once she feels the water has been sufficiently warmed, she steps into the shower, sighing softly as the water hits her skin. She closes her eyes as she dips her head under the showerhead, bracing her hands on the wall. This is the day she gets divorced. They had been married for three years. It's a long story. Her head lolls to the side as she allows the steaming water to cascade down her neck, working out a stress kink she has there.

Work is stressful. She works in the A&R department at a very famous west coast music label. Most people were envious because she managed to acquire such a sought after job at such a young age. Envious people became people vying for her position. But Quinn never worries. She's damn good at what she does.

A new artist that is vastly becoming marketable wants to sign with the company she works for. And of course, it's up to her to close the deal. So yeah, stressed.

"Can I join?"

She growls lowly. This surprise thing is quickly becoming annoying. Opening her eyes, she blinks water from them as she looks over at her husband.

He tilts his head to the side. "You always were beautiful, Quinn," he murmurs.

Her eyes soften. Kenneth is a good man, especially for putting up with her. She never loved him, but that never stopped him from loving her.

"Honestly, Ken, I'm about to get out in five," she lies. Spending more time in the shower to relax before a long day is ideal, but that obviously isn't going to happen this morning.

"For old time's sake?" he questions with a crooked smirk. Kenneth is good looking. _Really _good looking. During the first years Quinn knew him, he never went more than five minutes without some girl shoving a piece of paper littered with numbers into his hand. But his eyes were always set on her.

"No," she says carefully, not trying to hurt his feelings. "I'm sorry."

He nods his head, dark eyes briefly flashing in pain before he leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him. She exhales a breath she didn't know she had been holding and continues her shower. She needs to get out of the house.

When she exits the shower she quickly walks to her room. She grabs a black pencil skirt and a powder blue button up blouse from her closet. After putting on a black, matching bra and panty set, she puts her clothes on, topping everything off with a pair of black, three inch heels.

She walks over to the mirror, placing on earrings, lipstick, and a necklace. She grabs a clamp, pulling her hair back into a tight bun. Her eyes catch sight of something glistening in the mirror and she looks down at her hand. She still has the wedding band on. Slipping it off, she brings it close to her face, squinting her eyes to see the word engraved in it. Forever.

It's happening before she knows it and she's too far gone to stop it. Every time it happens. That's why she hardly ever took her wedding band off. Her eyes become unfocused as that one word causes her to slip back into a long buried memory.

"_I love you," a voice says proudly before giggling._

_Quinn wraps the girl in her arms, giggling right along with her. "And what does a sixteen year old know about love, hmm?" she questions, unconsciously quoting her parents._

_The girl gives a start, squirming in Quinn's grip. "I know a lot about love, thank you very much," she huffs while attempting to fold her arms across her chest._

_Quinn smiles before placing a kiss to the cold shoulder presented to her. She spins the girl in her arms so they're face to face. "Really?" she intones in a teasing manner. "You've been in love before?"_

"_No. But I know I love you," she replies sassily._

_She places a kiss to the girl's nose before pulling back and looking her in the eye._

"_I love you, too, Rach," she whispers intimately. "Forever."_

Her eyes squint; this time in anger as she remembers promising forever to a girl she once knew but never fulfilling that promise. She slams her wedding band onto her dresser with a deafening thud before she storms out of the room.

She walks through the kitchen, not once breaking her stride.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Kenneth calls to her. "I just made some."

Quinn stops in her tracks at his voice. Her eyes land on the door, longing to leave the house. Turning back to him, she forces the tension in her shoulders to ease as she gives him a tight lipped smile. "Sure, Ken."

His smile is both appreciative and reassuring as he gestures for her to sit. Posture stiff, she takes a seat in the chair in the dining room closest to the door, body angling towards it. Kenneth brings a hot plate of food to her and sits it down; he sits opposite her with his own food. "Eat," he says softly, knowing she won't touch it unless he asks and tells her all in one breath.

Glaring mildly at his beseeching demand, she picks up a fork and places a small piece of pancake in her mouth. He'd already cut the pancakes for her.

"This is good," she comments as she wonders how long she'd have to stay.

"You don't have to stay long," he tells her. "I just…want to say some things to you."

She nods her head brusquely while averting her eyes. Closing up.

Kenneth sits his fork down and leans forward in his seat, bracing both hands on the tabletop. "I know you loved her…"

Quinn stands up abruptly. "I'm not talking about this."

She walks out of the dining room and into the living room, Kenneth following closely behind. She grabs her briefcase from a nearby couch and paces toward the door.

"Quinn," he tries. "Please just stay a little longer. I think that since we're getting divorced today that you at least owe me some answers."

"You listen to me," she hisses as she spins around to glare at him. "I don't owe you _anything_, Ken. You've been a great husband, the most understanding man in the world. But don't you ever think for a second that I owe you an explanation for anything."

Her cold and biting tone sucks any sense of warmth and domestication that Kenneth had been trying to create out of the room.

He watches as she strides over to the door again, this time making it. "What time should I come over to sign the papers?" he asks as she opens the door.

"Six."

It's the last thing she says before walking out the door and shutting it behind her.

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><p>Quinn takes quick strides to make it to her office, her safe haven. This morning had been rattling to say the least and she really just needs a moment.<p>

Who the hell did Kenneth think he was? There is really no quicker way to start an argument with Quinn than bringing up her past. Not many people know her past either because she moved from Lima, Ohio _long _ago. She lives in bright, sunny Los Angeles now. Happy smiles and no rain clouds for miles.

She has to strive hard everyday to forget her past and he has no right bringing it up.

A knock on the door breaks her out of her reverie. "Come in."

In walks a man, about 5'11'', in a business suit. "'Sup, Quinn," he says, voice booming as he takes a seat in a chair opposite her. "Today's the big day."

"It is," she says quietly as she studies him. Noah, he prefers Puck, is a near and dear friend of hers. She met him when she first moved out to LA. He had this idea of weaseling his way into the music industry by any means. He wasn't the best student in school so needless to say, no one believed him. However, Quinn did. She took a shot on Puck, followed his lead. She hasn't regretted a single day of it since. They have a strong and trusting relationship. As a matter of fact, he's the only one she trusts.

"You know I hate it when you get spacey like that," he comments as he tinkers with things on her desk. "It's creepy."

"Shut up, Puck," she says as she stretches back in her seat.

He regards her for a moment. "Are you sure you want this?" he asks, speaking of the divorce.

Quinn shrugs it off before replying. "I'm young and I'm not in love. I'm not so brainless to believe that I'm going to find some romantic love affair and live happily ever after," she sobers at those words. "But…I don't want my marriage anymore."

"And this isn't something you're going to wake up in the morning regretting is it?" he asks with a smile. "Because you remember how much you bitched and moaned over that tattoo you got when we were out drinking a year ago."

She groans loudly as she covers her face with both hands. "Puck, why would you bring that up?" she asks, voice muffled. The tattoo he referred to is a gold star on her left hip. It's small; something that can quickly be glanced over without knowing it's there. However, it _is _there, and Quinn knew that night that she'd never be able to fully forget.

"I'm sorry!" Puck says with a laugh as he throws his hands up in placation. "My bad, Q. I'll never bring it up again."

"You said that the last time you brought it up," she says, scowling in his direction.

"Yeah, but I mean it this time." Gaining an air of business, he addresses her again. "What can we say about this new artist?"

Quinn relaxes at that. Her job, although stressful at times, she can do. Bringing up old memories, people telling her she owed them something, she can't handle so well. "Our new artist is very prominent on the east coast, specifically New York. She now wants to—"

"Wait," Puck says, all too eager. "She's a chick?"

"Yes."

His mouth twists up into a smug smirk as he reclines in his seat. "What does she look like? Smashable?"

She rolls her eyes. "Puck, stick to smashing those drunken whores that you meet in the clubs, okay?"

"Hey," he objects, pretending to be wounded. "Those girls are all respectable women. They just happen to have whorish ways while I'm smashing them between the sheets."

"Moving on. She is seeking to gain as much popularity and success on the west coast that she's garnered on the east. She's looking to sign to our label—"

"Winner's Victory Records."

"Yes…Winner's Victory." She never really understood the name. She had no idea why winning and being the best was important to the president of the company. But Quinn guessed that her love for winning is what gained her the title of president. "She wants to sign to a west coast label in hopes of creating a buzz for herself over here. I actually think it's a brilliant idea."

She was surprised when she'd heard the news of the artist wanting to sign to the label. Artists were typically not the best decision makers. That's what managers were for. But from what Quinn heard, the idea to sign to this label was all the artists' idea. She was impressed.

"Is this a guaranteed thing, Q? Are you one hundred percent sure that she's going to sign to us?"

That's the part she's unsure on. "No, I'm not one hundred percent sure. Every major record company on the west coast is looking for a fresh face. So everyone is already vying for her signature."

He takes a stand and walks over to her. "Do you need help sealing this deal, Quinn?" He asks as he takes his suit jacket off slowly. "Because you of all people know that the Puckasaurus is still in full swing."

Her eyebrow arches as she gazes at the display he puts on. "I can handle this. But thanks for your concern."

He smiles lazily at her before taking a seat. "What's this chick's name? What does she look like?"

Her brows furrow. "You know how things work around here. The president said that in order to create a more organic environment, both parties, the A&R and the artist should go into a negotiation without prior knowledge of each other. Kind of like a blind date."

"Ah, yes," he says. "Well…whatever. I'm still gonna smash her."

"At least wait until after I sign her," Quinn drawls. "I wouldn't want her backing out on a contract because of your questionable bedding skills."

Puck points a finger in her direction with a retort on his lips. But he's interrupted.

"Q!" The company phone chirps to life and an authoritative voice yells through the speaker. "Is that Neanderthal in there?"

Quinn smirks in Puck's direction as she answers the speaker phoned voice. "Yes, President Sylvester. He's here right now."

Puck's eyes widen as he stares at Quinn then the phone. "Puck, are you listening?"

He nods his head rapidly. "Yes, Ms. Sylvester."

"I asked for a steamy cup of coffee from you. And what did I get? Shit," she deadpans. "I literally got shit. My mother has more appealing bowels than what you've just brought me. I demand you get me another cup _right now_."

"Y-yes, Sue," he says as he scampers out of the room. "I never understand why _you _don't have to get coffee."

"That's because I'm the best," Quinn calls to his retreating form.

Sue chuckles a little. "You know, Q, you remind me of a young Sue Sylvester. Though you don't have my money or record company to call your own success."

Taking both the compliment and jab in stride, she says goodbye to Sue and reclines in her seat. The new artist is coming in a week and she has to prepare a presentation to make the company look as enticing as possible.

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><p>Her fingers are shaky as she puts her key into the door, unlocking it. She's a little nervous about getting a divorce. Getting divorced means she'll be shaming her family <em>yet again. <em>Not that they even associate with her anymore anyway, considering how much she shamed them with the first incident. She hasn't spoken to them much since moving away from Lima.

She's nervous about this newfound freedom she'll have. As weird as it sounds, Quinn works best when confined. Being confined helps her control. She could never be out of control while being confined.

She walks inside. Without even seeing anyone, she already knows people are in her house. She walks into the dining room.

"Hey there," her husband calls in a friendly voice as she walks in.

"Hey." She takes a seat opposite him, the divorce mediator sitting between them. He's a big guy. Quinn doesn't worry, though. Things won't get out of control.

Once Quinn is seated both she and Kenneth are issued the papers. She grabs a pen from her briefcase, mulling over the papers she's about to sign. She keeps thinking.

"_We can't be together," she says as she sobs into the girl's shoulder, needing her strength._

_Rachel doesn't know what's going on. Quinn had come into her house crying and now they were standing outside and she was still crying. She strokes her hair tenderly as she allows the words to sink in. "I don't understand."_

"_It's wrong," she sniffles. "This is wrong."_

"_This isn't wrong," Rachel says with conviction. "Love can't be wrong."_

"_It is!" Quinn shouts as she wrenches herself from Rachel's hold. "Two girls can't love like this."_

"_Who told you that, Quinn? Who told you that lie?" she asks, anger seeping into her tone._

"_It's not a lie, Rachel! It's true."_

_Rachel shakes her head back in forth in disbelief. She continues to stare at Quinn, taking in the blonde's trembling and defeated form._

"_Quinn, baby, look at you. You're shaking. You don't believe what you're saying any more than I do," she says softly. "Just come back inside with me. We can talk about this."_

"_I don't have time for that," she grits out, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I have to go."_

_She begins to walk away when Rachel grabs her arm. "Quinn, wait!"_

_Quinn spins around quickly, emotions swirling in her eyes faster than Rachel can take. She can't decipher any of them. "I love you, Quinn," she whispers. "As long as we love each other then this can't be wrong. We can make this work."_

_Quinn whimpers at her words. What is she supposed to do? Everything is out of her hands. She has no control over the situation. "I have to go," she says with finality._

_And it was true. As she left Rachel standing there crying, Quinn _did _have to leave. That was her last day in Lima, Ohio._

Quinn's eyes mist over as she rapidly signs her name everywhere it's required. She needs another hot shower. This time with no interruptions.

She hands the papers back to the mediator and waits for Kenneth to finish.

"This is exciting for you, isn't it?" he questions as he briefly glances at her before continuing to sign his name. "This is what you've been waiting for."

She sighs tiredly but doesn't respond. She knows he's hurting and wants to lash out. Quinn's not angry. She's not hurt, she's not…anything. Except hungry. She could use some food at the moment.

Kenneth finishes the papers and hands it back to the mediator as well. It's silent for a moment as the mediator goes over the signatures, making sure they're all there.

Quinn spares a glance in her soon to be ex-husband's direction. She wants to make sure he's alright. She doesn't hate the man, she just doesn't love him. And although she would like to keep the friendship they had before marriage, she suspects that it's unsalvageable.

"Alright, everything's here," the mediator says. He takes a stand and motions for them to stand as well. "By the power invested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you divorced."

She watches as Kenneth slumps back in his seat, running both hands through his short, dark hair.

"Can you leave us?" she asks the mediator. "I can assure you that we will be alright."

He stands there for a minute, fully prepared to argue that he had a job to do, but one look from Quinn shuts him up. He nods hurriedly before gathering his belongings. "I wish you both great success…separately of course," he says as he practically runs out the door.

The door shuts and it's silent. Quinn's not sure what to do. She isn't good at comforting people. But when she hears Kenneth take a shuddering breath she decides that she can try.

She cautiously walks over to him, slowly placing herself in his lap. Her brows crinkle in confused concentration as she removes his hands from his face. She places them around her waist before she too, wraps him in a tight hug.

Her breath swooshes out as she closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "You're such a good person," she murmurs into his hair. "And I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said yes if I knew—"

"Your parents had been pushing you to an outcome like this for years," he says just as quietly. "You were so…brainwashed a few years ago, Quinn. I understand why you couldn't say no."

"But I should've," she says, tightening her hold. "I _should've_."

"It's okay," he whispers as he strokes her back. It looks as if he isn't the only one needing comfort.

They stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms. Quinn's eyes leaked a few more tears as her grip continued to reflexively tighten.

"I should go," he whispers into her ear. "Don't want to over stay my welcome."

She nods jerkily as she gets up from his lap, smoothing her skirt as she walks across the hall into the kitchen. He doesn't follow her. Instead he walks into what was now strictly her bedroom, making a quick suitcase of necessities before returning to the dining room.

"I'm leaving," he calls to her as he continues to walk forward. "I'll be back to get the rest of my things."

He hears her light footsteps behind him and waits at the door for her. He looks at her, eyes downcast, glistening with tears, arms folded tightly across her chest. "You always were beautiful, Quinn Fabray."

"You weren't so bad yourself," she counters with tear filled eyes.

He takes a deep breath. "The only reason you're scared right now is because you no longer have an excuse to not live your life."

She viciously wipes at tears. "Who said I was afraid?"

"Quinn, I didn't spend two years dating you and three years married to you to not know anything about you," he says gently. "I think you should find her."

"Please." She holds a shaky hand up. "Please, don't talk about her right now."

He eyes her with concern for a moment before leaving. "Take care of yourself, Quinn."

Quinn watches as he walks out of the door and out of her life. She walks to the back of her house, towards her room and slides under the sheets. Food could wait. Right now, right now all she wanted to do was sulk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

Thank you for the reviews, guys. :) 

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><p>Puck uses the emergency house key that Quinn gave him when she first moved into the house to unlock the door. He hasn't seen her outside of work the entire week. During her time at work her office door was always locked. She didn't associate with anyone and Puck was becoming nervous.<p>

He slips into her house, swiftly walking to her bedroom. He knows it's her source of comfort. Finding her under a mound of covers, blonde hair splayed across two pillows, he approaches her, slowly sitting on the bed beside her prone body.

Knowing she's awake, he begins speaking. "I thought you said you wouldn't regret this."

"I don't," her muffled voice says with conviction.

"Then what's wrong?" He grabs the covers near her body and gives them a rough yank. Her nude body comes into view as the covers go flying back and she doesn't even attempt to cover herself.

Puck tries to be a good friend, and not gaze appreciatively at her form. He does sneak a peek, however. "Seriously, Q, put some clothes on."

"No one told you to come over my damn house anyway," she grumbles as she takes a stand. She walks over to an antique rocking chair that houses her robe and grabs the black, silk article of clothing. Slipping it on, she ties it around the front before running her hands through her hair. She walks over to her dresser, looking at herself in the mirror.

"I look like shit," she comments with a frown.

Puck smirks as he reclines back onto her bed. "Yeah, but I'd still hit it…again."

"As if I'd let you…again," she retorts as she walks back over to the bed and lies down next to him. "I think I'm sad," she tells him truthfully.

"No shit. I thought you wanted the divorce," he says as he pulls her reluctant body into his.

She gives up the losing battle and allows him to pull her to his chest. "I did want it," she says softly. "I'm glad it happened. But I just, I don't know. What do I do now?"

"You're young, Quinn," he murmurs. "You're only twenty-three and you already have frown lines." He rubs a thumb across her forehead, easing the creases there. "You have to live now and that's why you're afraid."

"If one more person calls me scared they _will _get shot."

He shuts his mouth, not doubting for one second that one of the many closets she has in her house conceals a gun.

"Tomorrow's Monday. A fresh start at work," he starts, deciding a subject change was best. "Our new artist is going to be there. Will _you _be there? And I mean Quinn Fabray, shrewd and negotiating A&R, not the shell of your former self that you are now."

She rubs the side of her face as she nods. "I'll be there. I'll sign her."

"Then I'll smash her," he says with a sure nod.

"Then we'll have to sue her when she tries to break out of her contract because of your poor sex tricks."

"You didn't complain."

"I was drunk," she retorts. "Sex with Puck and that gold star tattoo. That truly _was _a regretful night," she says with a laugh.

Puck stares at his friend, at the life in her eyes. If making fun of him brought that genuine smile to her face then he'll take it in stride. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't try to join in on the fun she and I are going to have. I'm sure she's not into threesomes."

"How do you know what she's into?" Quinn questions with an arched eyebrow.

"She's a singer, Quinn," he deadpans. "Those are the most self-centered people besides actors. In the bedroom I'm sure it's all about her."

She makes a disgusted face. "I don't even want to know how you came to such a conclusion."

The sound of Puck's phone pauses their conversation. He reaches into this pocket to retrieve it and reads the text. It was from a girl. He sucks his teeth. "I have to leave," he says as he presses a kiss to Quinn's forehead. "Booty calls."

"I believe the term is 'duty calls', Puck."

"I can stay here if you need me to," he says sincerely. "Do you need me to—"

She shakes her head. "Go, Puck. How long has it been for you? A month?"

"I'm definitely leaving now."

He rubs her head in a way that she hates before standing. "I expect you back at work tomorrow in full swing," he tells her.

"I will be, now leave." She settles back into the blankets with a contented sigh. Suddenly the world doesn't seem so bad. The door to her house shuts and a half an hour later she's asleep.

"_Quinn, honey, we love you. But you're not living right so you can't live here." Her mother, Judy Fabray, rapidly packs a suitcase as she talks to Quinn. "We're sending you to a boarding school in California. Sweetie, please don't take this personally."_

_Quinn's in a chair, legs pulled under her chin with her arms wrapped around them as she watches her mother. She's just broken up with Rachel so there isn't much she cares about right now._

"_Okay…" she says, voice void of anything. "I'll go."_

_Her mother turns around to smile at her. "You can come back anytime—"_

"_No."_

"_Quinnie…"_

"_I'll leave," she says as she takes a stand. She walks over to her mom and yanks the suitcase out of her hand. "I'll leave. But I'm not coming back."_

_Her mother flinches at her harsh tone and actions before her face loses all expression. "Quinn, you will not get upset with me because your love is impure."_

"_Impure…" Quinn repeats, tasting the word on her lips._

"_I'm not sure I can even call it love," she continues. "It's just wrong, Quinn. Two women can't…they just can't!"_

"_Whatever." She feels moisture gather in her eyes but she refuses to cry. She misses Rachel so much. It's only been about two hours since she last saw her for the last time and she already feels as if her heart is caving in._

"_Just be happy your father never found out about this. I don't know what he would have—"_

"_Found out about what?"_

_Quinn feels her heart beat pick up as she turns towards her bedroom door. "Daddy…"_

_Russell Fabray is quiet as he takes in the sight before him. His daughter, standing in the middle of the floor looking small and frail in her yellow dress as she clutches a suitcase in her white knuckle grip. His wife looks both scared and defiant as she stares at Quinn, refusing to meet his gaze._

"_What shouldn't I find out about?" he tries again, authority in his tone._

_Judy swallows thickly before looking him in the eye. "Quinn has a girlfriend."_

_Russell's eyes narrow into slits as he fixes Quinn with a hard glare. "A girlfriend?" he says, spitting the words out of his mouth. "Judy, leave."_

"_But, honey, wait—"_

"_Leave!" he shouts._

_Judy shuts her mouth up quick and swiftly walks out the door. She spares a glance at Quinn, whose crying freely now, before she leaves._

_Russell slams the door shut and locks it before turning to Quinn. "You want to be a boy now? A man? Wanna have yourself a little girlfriend?"_

"_No," she whispers as tears fall onto her cheeks. "Daddy, I don't want to be a boy."_

"_I think you do," he says as he walks towards her. "If you want to be a boy, a man, then I'll treat you like one."_

Quinn wakes up with a start. She runs her hands over her face, checking for black eyes, bruised cheeks. She bites her trembling lower lip as she grips the covers to her tightly. She is not going to cry. She's _not_.

Exhaling slowly, she looks to her right, searching for her clock. The digital clock reads 3:15. She had to be at work in less than four hours. She really fucking hates Monday mornings.

Ever since she'd mentioned the divorce to Kennedy, her memories are starting to resurface. She'd been repressing them for years, hiding them from herself. But now they're back, spewing into her subconscious anyway they know how. Everything, _everything _reminds her of Rachel. And Rachel reminded her of her parents.

She tosses her legs over the edge of the bed before standing up. Gait shaky, she walks into the kitchen and grabs a cup from the cabinet. She turns on the faucet at the sink and fills her cup with water before downing the entire cup, thirst, wholly rattled and uncomfortable. And she's still hungry. But after a dream like that, after a _memory _like that, she can't eat.

Ever grateful to her ex-husband for suggesting boxing to her a year ago to work out her stress, she travels down the stairs and into her cellar. Once down there, she immediately attacks her punching bag.

She crouches into an offensive stance as she throws a quick jab to the bag. She follows up with a right hook, swiftly sidestepping the bag once momentum brings it back to her. Quinn continues to abuse the bag and her body, sweat pouring down her abs as well as over her brow and into her eye. She finally stops once she can't see, wiping at her eye to get the moisture out.

"_You promise to always love me, Quinn?"_

Quinn growls before delivering a powerful roundhouse.

"_What are we doing? Getting married?" she jokes._

Her eyes begin to fill with a different, more salty kind of moisture as she pushes on. She gives a hard jab before another hook.

"_Maybe someday we can."_

Her growl this time sounds more like a cry for help as she loses it and continuously assaults the bag, never once stopping.

"_In that case, I will _always _love you."_

She falls to her knees, closing her eyes as the tears fall. She doesn't regret her divorce, but she does regret all of the residual feelings that are coursing through her. Feelings that aren't recent.

Feelings that had always been there.

Her hands begin to throb and Quinn looks down at them. Her knuckles are purple and slightly swollen. The thought of wrapping them prior didn't even occur to her. Not much occurred to her in the past half hour besides Rachel.

"I really have to snap out of this shit," she tells herself as she takes a stand.

She slowly trudges up the stairs, exhausted. Walking to the bathroom, she grabs the medical tape from under the sink's cabinet and meticulously wraps her hands. If she wants to look professional in work tomorrow, later today, she would have to put makeup on it.

"Fucking great," she mutters. "Just what I needed before this huge meeting."

Quinn doesn't even bother to shower, opting to do it when she wakes back up for fear of falling asleep in the tub. She falls on top of her covers on the bed. She manages to sleep peacefully, nightmares gone for now. 

* * *

><p>Puck wanted the old Quinn back and that was just what she's going to give him. She steps out of the elevator, onto her floor, heels clacking with confidence at her every step. She passes by her secretary, glaring pointedly at the older woman when she notices there isn't a cup of coffee in her hand, waiting to give to her.<p>

"Sorry, Mrs. Thomas," she says as she begins to stand up.

"Fabray," she corrects evenly before walking into her office. She closes the door behind her but doesn't lock it. Placing her briefcase on her desk, she slides into her seat and reclines, heaving a sigh of relief. That took work. She isn't feeling like herself at all, but she's willing to try. She _has_ to try because she had a deal to negotiate and hopefully close all in a couple of hours.

"It's still creepy when you space out like that."

Quinn's head rolls to the side so Puck can see the look of pure boredom on her face. "It's still rude when you don't knock."

He smiles before taking residence in the chair that he's claimed long ago. "I see you're back though. I saw your secretary running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She was telling everyone within earshot that you went back to Fabray and that they'd better get it right."

Quinn smirks at that. Maybe she's alright after all. "Good."

"Are you ready?"

"Born that way." She turns to her computer, silently shooting a telepathic good job to her secretary for turning it on, before opening up her calendar. "She'll be here any minute now."

Puck pulls out his cell phone and begins to dial numbers. "Nervous?"

"Hell no," she says, insulted that he even asked. "I can do this in my sleep. Who are you calling?"

"I'm getting my schedule cleared," he says. "I'm gonna take that hot chick out as soon as this is over."

Quinn laughs at that. "You already know she's hot? I almost wish that she was ugly, just so your cocky and arrogant ass wouldn't have someone to take out."

His face turns serious. "Quinn. This is me you're talking about."

"You're right," she says as she eyes him closely. "You'd still have sex with her, even if she was ugly."

There's a firm knock on the door and both heads turn towards it. "This is it," he whispers to her.

She nods her head, slightly nervous as he walks over to the door.

"Good morning," he says with a bright smile. He's met with two women, both dressed in business casual. "I'm Noah Puckerman. This is my partner and fellow A&R Quinn Fabray." He shakes both women's hands as they walk into the room.

"Hello, my name is Santana Lopez; manager," one of the women says. "It's nice to meet you…"

As Santana steps forward and further into the room, so does another woman. The woman is almost painfully short with long dark hair. Tan, almost golden skin and Quinn notices once the girl's eyes settles on hers how dark they are.

"Rachel…" she whispers.

Said girl's eyes widen to saucers. Quinn watches closely as Rachel's mind wars with her body. She takes a half step forward before placing her foot back on the ground. Her eyes never break contact with Quinn. She looks confused and curious at the same time. Her eyes soften while staring at Quinn.

Quinn's eyes narrow slightly as she stares at her. Her hands, behind her back, continue to clench and unclench, the movement causing her makeup covered bruised knuckles to burn. Her heart clenches painfully as she looks into the other woman's eyes. She feels exposed like she used to when those dark eyes would focus on her.

"…I've already told you, Noah. I have a girlfriend. Please quit trying to hit on me or I'll be forced to file charges."

"Puc-_Noah_," Quinn calls abruptly, not wanting this deal to fall south. "Can you go get the paper work for what will hopefully be our new artist?" It's already proving difficult to be savvy and business suave when her ex-girlfriend, the only person she'd ever loved, suddenly appears in her life. But she had to seal this deal, no questions asked.

Puck looks at her quizzically before walking over to her. "You already have the papers," he whispers to her. "It's gonna look like we're ill prepared if I leave to go get them."

"Excuse us for a second," she says to Santana, not acknowledging Rachel before returning to Puck. "I would rather look ill prepared than to have her manager walk out because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants," she whispers. "Go. Flirt with my cougar secretary, get fresh air, jerk off if you have to. But when you come back? You better tone your inner slut down."

He would rather stay there and pick an immature argument with Quinn so he can loosen up the stick in her ass, but he knows when to stop. "You need to get laid," he tells her quietly before walking out of the door.

"I'm really sorry," she says as she approaches the two women. "I'm Quinn Fabray." She walks over to shake hands.

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Fabray. I'm Santana Lopez, Rachel's manager." She accepts Quinn's handshake before walking further into the office. She takes a seat around a large table.

Quinn pauses for a moment, gathering herself. She stares at Rachel, unable to move.

Rachel sees the pleading look on Quinn's face and takes a step forward. "I'm Rachel Berry," she says confidently. She decides to keep it professional, she knows that what Quinn's _really _pleading for. "It's very nice to meet you, Quinn."

She nods her head, not trusting herself to speak. Rachel brushes past her, smelling of apples. They were Rachel's favorite when they were younger. Quinn remembers wondering what Rachel loved more: her or apples.

She holds her breath, as she walks away from the familiar scent and to the table, opposite the two women. "Alright," she begins. "We can start."

Rachel's eyes zero in on Quinn as hazel eyes try very hard to look everywhere but at her. She looks at her face, noticing how much more serious the girl, no, woman looks now than when she was younger. She looks more mature. Rachel's eyes rake almost shamelessly up and down Quinn's body, drinking the other woman in for the first time in seven years. She'd never forgotten about Quinn. How could she? They were so deeply in love. But as Rachel looks across the table towards her, it seems like seven years ago was a completely different life. Quinn looks the same, but with subtle differences. She looks as if she has sharper edges. She looks as if life wasn't all that kind to her.

"Ms. Berry."

Her eyes travel back north to her face to see Quinn eyeing her with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

She wills her blush away before it could creep up. She was getting used to this new found celebrity thing. Personal questions were being thrown at her left and right. She doesn't blush much anymore. "Yes, Quinn?"

Quinn's right eye twitches, a rumbling growl in her chest that she tries to suppress. She doesn't know why she's feeling so resentful of Rachel's presence. But she is. Rachel has no right to be in her office, in her life, and address her so _informally_.

"I was asking," she says with barely contained impatience, "whether or not you had a question."

Rachel can feel the tension and borderline hostility rolling off of Quinn in waves. She isn't really sure how she expected this reunion to be, didn't even know there was ever going to _be _a reunion—though she had hoped. Regardless, she never expected Quinn to act this way.

"No. I don't have any questions."

A knock on the door is heard, followed by the door opening. "Excuse me, Mrs. Thomas."

"Thomas?" The word is out of Rachel's mouth, laced with disbelief and something else before she can think better of it and she mentally scolds herself for her unprofessional behavior. She should not be acting like this. She had been trained in matters such as handling particularly shocking situations.

"Fabray," Quinn says sternly, addressing both Rachel and the intruder but focusing on the latter. "What do you have for me?"

He swiftly walks into the room, handing her a manila folder. "This is from Noah."

"Where is Noah?"

The man hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "He's just outside your office, talking to your secretary."

She receives the folder, muttering a "Thanks, Kurt" and asking him to grab Puck before opening it. A sheet of paper is on the inside. She picks it up and reads the words. _'Quinn! Quinn! She's our girl! If she can't do it, Puck's gonna hurl!'_

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes at the crappy cheer that was scribbled on the paper. Looking into the folder again, she sees a photograph and picks it up. It's a picture of Puck, with a t-shirt on of some band, bending over a trash can, throwing up whatever drink he had had that night. She remembers that night. It was the same night that she got her gold star tattoo, cried on Puck's shoulder about missing Rachel, and begged him to have comfort sex with her. That was a messy night. And it was an even messier couple of weeks after that when she had to explain it to Kenneth. She's never gotten drunk again since.

Puck walks back in a second later and Quinn puts the folder to the side. He reaches behind her desk and grabs the papers that he was sent to get before sitting beside Quinn.

"I apologize for any transgressions that may have happened earlier."

Santana rolls her eyes at his apology, but tries to remain professional. "Of course. Let's all just move on."

Quinn nods at that. "These are the papers that compose the contract that she has to sign." She can't bring herself to say Rachel's name for fear of choking on the syllables.

Puck caught the tension as soon as he sat down. And it isn't hot, sexual tension between two women. The air around them is bitter. Well, from Quinn's side it's bitter. He can't pick up what Rachel is putting out. Eyeing the girl in front of Quinn, he tries to figure out who she is.

Santana turns to the brunette. "Rachel, do you want to sign to this company? You'll be dealing with Quinn and _Noah,_" she practically spits his name with an annoyed emphasis. "Ms. Fabray, would you run it by her one more time? I want her to be sure this is what she wants."

Puck's eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the name. He knows Rachel. He knows her very well. Quinn used to mention her _all _the time. Mostly when she was drunk. That's why things feel awkward. But when Quinn was drunk, she always spoke of loving Rachel. He always found it kind of hot, the fact that Quinn likes girls, or 'used to'. No matter how much she denied it when she was sober, he knew the truth. Even the sex between them couldn't have convinced Puck that she was straight. It did quite the opposite, actually.

But that was then and this is now. And now, apparently Quinn can't stand the other woman sitting across from her. The same woman she used to always swear to Puck she'd loved fervently. He gives Quinn a sideways questioning glace, making sure he had the right woman.

"Yes," Quinn says, answering Puck's unspoken inquiry and Santana's spoken one. Taking a deep breath, she addresses Rachel. "Ms. Berry—"

"Please call me Rachel, Quinn."

Her hand clenches. "Rachel." It sounds to foreign to her own ears. "Noah and I will be your A&R, which stands for artists and repertoire. We basically bridge the gap between the artist and the record label. We will oversee your recording process as well as help market you in the best way possible."

"Think of us as your cheerleaders," Puck says. "We're the ones behind the scenes saying 'Go, Rachel! You can do it!'"

Quinn briefly wonders what Puck's obsession with being a cheerleader was before replying. "That's a great way to think of it. We're…here for you. You'll have both our numbers to call whenever you have questions."

Quinn thinks she's going to be sick. As if she's literally going to vomit in the office. But what would there be to throw up? She hasn't eaten anything in almost an entire day.

Rachel stares at Quinn intently as she talked. Quinn is so beautiful, even after all these years. If anything, she's even more beautiful.

She's nervous about venturing into this unknown territory with her ex-girlfriend, especially because Quinn seems so unwilling. But she's a singer and she wants to be successful. She doesn't know the west coast very well at all and although Quinn glares at her with hard and resentful eyes, she's the only one Rachel knows. Therefore, she's the only one Rachel trusts.

"I'll sign," Rachel says, reaching a hand out for the papers.

Quinn hands her the papers and Rachel catches sight of her knuckles. Makeup could only go so far. They're still a little swollen and a little purple. Rachel looks into her eyes with alarm, questioning what the hell Quinn did. Quinn minutely shakes her head one time, telling Rachel that she's alright but also telling her to back off.

Rachel sighs quietly at the rejection as she flips through the papers to sign her name. Quinn watches, nostalgia tickling her mind. She had just done this a couple of weeks ago. Except that was a divorce. But this, this is practically marriage. Rachel is signing a five year contract with Winner's Victory Records. They'll have to deal with each other for a long time.

She smiles softly at Quinn as she returns the papers. Quinn doesn't even look her in the eye.

"Alright, we're done," Quinn says in a faux cheerful voice as she takes a stand. "It was nice meeting the both of you." Rachel extends her hand boldly. "It was nice to meet you, Quinn."

Quinn takes the offered hand. She shakes her hand, wincing slightly at the pressure Rachel unwittingly puts on her knuckles.

Rachel notices. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Quinn nods, shrugging it off before shaking Santana's hand. Once Puck's shook everyone's hand, Rachel and Santana prepare to leave Quinn's office.

"Santana?" Rachel asks. "You go ahead and I'll catch up. I have a question to ask Quinn about the label."

Puck, although he'd like to be nosey, can take a hint. "I'll be outside," he murmurs to Quinn as he walks out of the door.

"Don't forget you have a radio interview in less than forty minutes, Berry." Santana walks out of the room as well.

Quinn doesn't even say anything as she walks behind her desk and takes seat. She knows Rachel doesn't have a question about the label. She's not stupid.

Rachel takes a step towards her desk, sitting down on the chair in front of it. She's silent for a moment, gathering her courage.

She takes in Quinn's stiff posture and averted gaze. Tell-tale signs that she's closed off.

"It's good to see you again," she says quietly.

Quinn doesn't move, save for her eyes narrowing. "Good to see you, too," she mumbles.

Rachel swallows thickly. "Quinn…I'd like for us to—"

"Rachel, please," she whispers. "Five years. All we have to do is do our respective jobs for five years then we can go our separate ways again." She feels pressure behind her eyes as she speaks.

"You're serious? Quinn, if you used to love me—"

"I didn't love you." Her eyes shut tightly at the words as she balls a hand into a fist.

Rachel sees her posture drawing tighter and tighter. She'd always likened Quinn to a big cat. Maybe a tiger or a lion. There were times when they were younger when Quinn was lethargic and lazy, always stretching her limbs like she owned the world, or turning towards Rachel after sex with a lazy smile on her face, like a big, tired cat. And during foreplay she used to have the grin of a Cheshire as she teased Rachel mercilessly. But right now, by the looks of things, she was poised to attack. But that doesn't scare Rachel. Nothing ever scared her when it came to the woman in front of her. And she always pushed buttons.

"You're just as bad at lying now as you were seven years ago."

Quinn abruptly stands from her seat. This is all she can take. "It was very nice meeting you, Berry," she says tightly. "But you need to leave. Now."

She walks to the door and grabs the handle. She prepares to open it but Rachel puts a hand on the door to stop her. She moves to stand right beside Quinn, practically on top of her.

"Do you really think we can do this five year job professionally through its entirety?"

Rachel's words are little more than a breath and Quinn breathes in deeply before deciding to focus her attention elsewhere. Rachel has no right, no right at all to be in her life. She has no right to tell her how the next five years are going to go. Quinn doesn't want this. She _doesn't_.

Rachel reaches down to grab Quinn's hand on the door knob. She tenderly cups it in her palm and brings it to her face. Her brows furrow as she looks at the bruises. She looks at Quinn briefly before carefully dragging her thumb across her knuckles, soothing them. Her lips curve up slightly when she hears Quinn's quiet sigh.

"What did you—"

"Nothing."

She nods her head as she continues to nurture the wounded hand in her grasp. But she loses herself. Thinks she's sixteen years old again because she leans forward to kiss Quinn's hand, wanting to take the pain away.

"What are you doing?" Quinn hisses as she violently wrenches her hand away, wincing slightly when she hurts herself in the process.

Rachel blinks. What _had _she been doing? "Quinn, I-I was only trying to help."

"I'm not gay," she says gravely. "So please, stop."

It all finally clicks into place. "They've completely brainwashed you," she whispers sadly. "You're not the same person."

"Leave." Quinn reaches for the door again, this time managing to open it without interception.

She doesn't fight her this time, only walks out the door. Rachel's no more than two steps out when the door shuts behind her tightly. She looks toward her manager. "I'm ready to leave now."

"Fantastic," Santana replies with sarcasm. "Maybe if we leave now, we can only be ten minutes late."

She sees a sort of defeated look on Rachel's face and decides to spare her, however. "Come on, Berry. Let's get you some coffee or something."

Puck watches the two women walk out. So much for smashing the hot, new artist. Whether Quinn wants it or not, she has claim over Rachel and he is not going to cross that line. And the manager has a girlfriend. Damn. Work _sucked_.

He puts aside his libido, however, to check on his friend. Quinn probably needs another shoulder to cry on, sans the sex this time. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

* * *

><p>Quinn walks through her house at a brisk pace, flinging her jacket, briefcase, and keys to a nearby couch before walking past the dining room and the kitchen and into her room. She flops down face first onto her bed. This is becoming a habit.<p>

She hasn't seen Rachel in two days much to her relief. But she's still rattled. She still has nightmares; everything about her day still reminds her of Rachel.

She groans quietly when the phone rings. Groping along the bed, she finally finds it and scrolls to unlock. "What?"

"_I don't think that's a proper greeting."_

Her face pales at the feminine, high pitched voice on the other end of the line. "Berry, what the hell is it?" she growls.

"_You can call me Rachel, Quinn," _she says, no evidence in her tone of voice that Quinn's words are upsetting her.

"Rachel," Quinn grits out. "Can I help you?"

"_You may. I was merely calling to ask what time I needed to be in the studio tomorrow."_

Those words instantly remind Quinn that no matter what kind of past she and Rachel have that she still needs to be professional. This is a job, not her relationship. Or lack thereof.

"Recording starts at eleven," she says with less malice in her voice. "You're going to need to be there at ten in order to warm up with our vocal coach."

Rachel doesn't say anything after that and Quinn wonders if the girl hung up. However, she can hear her breathing on the other end and knows she's still there.

"Listen, Rachel, if you don't have more to say—"

"_I never blamed you," _she says softly.

"I need to go."

"_Quinn, just listen to me for a second."_

"Rachel," Quinn says firmly. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not gay. I never was. I don't know what it was that went on between us, but I got over it."

"_That's a lie!" _Rachel shouts into the phone. She hates, absolutely _hates _when Quinn denies who she was and what they were to each other. She hates that Quinn's parents got to her, tore her down, broke her, then sent her away to be remolded into the woman that she is now.

Quinn's stunned into silence for a moment. She doesn't say anything, breathing heavy as if she had just run a mile. "I really need to go," she finally whispers.

"_I never blamed you. And I never hated you."_

"Maybe you should've."

Rachel chuckles bitterly into the phone. _"You seem to be doing both things on your own."_

Quinn sees red. "Goodbye."

She slams her phone down. Why did Rachel have to come back into her life? Why did she have to contact her on anything other than a professional level? Why did Rachel have to know her so well?

She runs her hands through her hair as she gets out of bed and practically runs to her cellar to work off stress.

* * *

><p>Quinn arrives to the studio ten minutes before schedule. She opens her car door and steps out, walking towards the building. Out of the corner of her eye she catches a short brunette and sighs in annoyance. She continues to walk forward, pretending not to notice her presence.<p>

"Good morning, Quinn," Rachel says in a cheerful voice.

"Morning," Quinn replies as she opens the door.

They both slip into the building and head up the stairs, Quinn leading the way.

Rachel follows closely behind, eyes finding Quinn's ass briefly before veering off to the left. She blushes. Rachel's always had an appreciation for the female form and she's never been afraid of it. Anyone with ears knew that she had two gay dads. And if they taught her anything, it was to be true to herself. That's why it makes her upset when Quinn denies her attraction, denies _them _and what they used to be. It's obvious to anyone that really knew Quinn which team she batted for. She and Quinn grew up in very different households and it showed back then. Quinn always came over Rachel's house but never vice versa. Rachel's fathers adored Quinn but Quinn's parents never knew who Rachel was. Rachel knew that Quinn was only trying to protect the most important thing to her, their relationship. That being said, she never took anything personally. As long as she had Quinn, she was content.

Rachel follows closely behind Quinn as she's lead into a room with a recording booth in it. "This is where you'll record."

Rachel looks around the room, appreciating its size. She'd been in many recording studios but this by far had to be the largest. "Your mixing console is the newest model I've seen," she says in awe.

Quinn smiles at that. "Sue likes to keep up to date on everything in the studio to produce better sound qualities than the competition."

"She's the president, correct?"

"Yes. She's the one that told you to, 'Sing your damn ass off or you're fired.'"

"I suppose I had better do what she says." Rachel takes a step towards Quinn. When she sees that Quinn doesn't seem to be retreating, she continues to walk forward. "Do you know when I have to leave for vocal training?"

"No, I don't," Quinn says as she decides to sit on a nearby couch. Sue doesn't believe in spending money on something as useless as a couch for the recording studio. However, when the quality of the music of the artists on the label began to decline due to employees sitting on the mixing console and inadvertently tampering with the music, she decided to buy one. Everyone got a thorough tongue lashing when album sales dropped.

Quinn leans back heavily against the couch as her eyes slip shut. Sleep is still a near impossible feat and she's tired. The couch dips beside her and she knows Rachel's sitting there, staring at her.

"I owe you an apology," Rachel says, hands clasped together in her lap. "I was out of line. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. How you decide to live your life is your own choice. You are your own person, Quinn. And furthermore—"

"Thank you for this life lesson talk, counselor," Quinn replies dryly. She used to always find Rachel's nervous rambling charming and right now she's finding it hard to not crack a small smile. "It's fine. Let's just forget about it."

It's silent once more and Quinn revels in it because she knows it won't last for long.

"I also wanted to say thank you."

Cue Rachel talking again.

"For what?"

"For keeping this professional." She bites her lip nervously. She isn't really sure why, but she she's starting to feel embarrassed. "I was acting…immature and I appreciate your maturity and professionalism while dealing with me."

"You're new to this," Quinn says quietly. "It gets easier. We just happen…"

"To have history?" Rachel supplies helpfully.

Quinn nods at that. That's a safe way to put it. "Exactly. If it had been anyone else acting as your A&R then I'm sure you would have been just as professional."

Rachel smiles at that. She allows Quinn to rest her head back against the couch with her eyes closed in silence. She knows that Quinn knows that she's staring at her, but she can't bring herself to care.

"You should take care of yourself better," she comments as she looks at Quinn's body. "You don't look like you get adequate sleep and I'm almost certain that you've lost at least five—"

"Berry," Quinn groans. She's fucking tired. Why won't Rachel just shut up? "We just went over this. Two colleagues wouldn't talk about personal things such as this."

"Yes, but Quinn, your body, although clearly fit, seems a little on the frail side."

Quinn stands up. "I'm going outside to see if the vocal coach is here."

"Do you need me to—"

"Just stay here, Rachel," she calls to the girl, already walking toward the stairs.

She walks down the stairs and outside of the building. Rachel hadn't even been around but for two weeks and she's already getting under Quinn's skin. Quinn wonders just how closely Rachel's been watching her for the time that she's been here if she's noticed that she's lost weight. Five pounds seemed to be a gross exaggeration anyway. Rachel was known to be on the dramatic side.

Quinn breaks out of her train of thought when she sees a black Hummer pull into the studio parking lot. She breathes a sigh of relief. She knows who it is.

Puck climbs out of his Hummer looking like a movie star on vacation with a loose fitting button up shirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of loafers. "'Sup, future milf?" he calls to Quinn before he makes it to her.

Quinn doesn't even have it in her to be offended. She's glad he finally made it. "Let's just go inside."

"Rachel's here?"

"Yeah, she's here."

Knowing this has the potential to be dangerous territory, Puck proceeds with caution. "Why aren't you in there with her?" he asks slowly.

"Because, she keeps talking, and critiquing, and analyzing," Quinn responds. "And I'm tired and sleepy and she will not stop talking."

"Well you don't have to deal with it for long," Puck responds as he looks over his shoulder. "The vocal coach is here."

Quinn, Puck, and the vocal coach travel up the stairs into the recording room to find Rachel tinkering with different sound bites. She apologizes, Quinn rolls her eyes, and Rachel leaves for vocal warm up.

While Rachel's gone, Quinn manages to catch a half hour nap while resting on Puck's shoulder. Puck doesn't mind, but she's resting on the shoulder of his dominant hand, which makes sexting a bit of a challenge.

Rachel walks into the room after vocal warm up to see Quinn napping. She takes in the peaceful and vulnerable look she has on her face. She misses that look. It used to only be reserved for her. But now Quinn's resting on another man's shoulder with that same look. Rachel can't help but wonder just how close Quinn and Puck are.

"Shall I step into the booth?" she asks Puck once she's finally able to tear her eyes away from Quinn.

Puck looks up from his phone, noticing Rachel for the first time. "Uh, yeah sure. Mike, set her up will ya?"

A tall, burley man seated at the mixing console begins to work as he tells Rachel to step inside and sing. And sing she does. She belts out her notes perfectly.

Rachel is singing for no more than ten minutes when Quinn wakes up to the sound of her voice. Quinn listens carefully, soaking in the rich sound.

"_Your voice is beautiful, Rachel," Quinn says with admiration. She sits up on the bed and motions for the girl to come closer. "You're going to be so successful. The music industry won't know what hit them."_

_Rachel smiles dazzlingly as she walks toward her girlfriend. "If I'm going to be this huge singer then what are you going to be?" she questions as she wraps her arms around Quinn's neck._

_Quinn wraps her arms around a tiny waist in return. She presses a kiss to her stomach. "Your hot, blonde trophy wife?" she quips with a lecherous grin._

_Rachel's smile slips into a smirk as she cups Quinn's face. "Trophy wives have to adequately please their partners, you know."_

"_Oh really?" she says, already knowing where this was going._

"_Yes." She nods her head in the affirmative. "And I would be remiss if I did not make sure that you can tend to all of my needs."_

_Quinn's fingers inch down to the edge of Rachel's shirt, lifting it by the hem. "I guess I had better prove myself," she says, biting her bottom lip, knowing what it does to Rachel._

"_Please do," she says breathlessly as Quinn's fingers trace up her ribs._

"I have to go," Quinn whispers to Puck as she takes a stand.

Puck stands with her, stepping closer to look her in the eye. "Damn, Q, why so dilated?" he jokes. "I haven't seen your eyes this blown since the night we—"

"Was that your favorite night in life or something?" she hisses back. "Quit bringing it up."

She walks out of the room, not noticing a pair of dark eyes on her.

Rachel continues to sing her heart out. But she keeps thinking of Quinn. She doesn't know whether to hate the girl, love her, or just pity her. She hates, _wants _to hate her for continuously denying who she is, who they were. The relationship that she had with Quinn is something that Rachel holds near and dear. To see and hear her ex-girlfriend blatantly deny that there was ever anything going on with them is nothing shy of painful.

She steps out the booth, suddenly tired. "How was it?" she asks Mike when she rounds on him.

"It was great," he mumbles around a bite of sandwich in his mouth. "Your voice is amazing, kid. Really talented."

Rachel smiles brightly at him as she walks over to Puck. "Where's Quinn?" she asks.

Puck stands up. "She went outside for some fresh air."

"Was I that bad?" she jokes.

"Honestly? You're one of the best voices we've signed in a long time," he tells the girl as they begin to walk to the stairs. "Your range is sick."

"Thank you, Noah," she says appreciatively.

They walk outside to find Quinn standing by the wall on her phone.

"She probably isn't even talking to anybody," Puck tells Rachel out of the corner of his mouth, causing her to giggle.

"I heard that," Quinn says loudly, ending her call before shoving her phone into her pocket. "Are we all done here?"

"Yep." Puck puts an arm around Rachel's shoulder as he addresses Quinn. "She was great."

Quinn's eyes land between Puck and Rachel, at their point of contact. They narrow slightly before Quinn looks back up at them. "What's this?" she questions. "A new found friendship?"

Rachel's the one that breaks out of their sideways hug. "Um, no. Noah was just congratulating me and my voice," she answers. "As you know, Quinn, I have been through years of extensive vocal training. That being said, it is only necessary that Noah—"

"I get it," Quinn says, minus her usual malice.

It gets silent after a moment, Rachel staring at Quinn, Puck staring at Quinn, and Quinn looking any and everywhere else.

"Okay. Well…I better get going."

It's Puck that utters the words and before Quinn can properly glare at him, he dashes off to his car, leaving the two women behind.

Quinn sighs softly as she turns back to Rachel. "I guess we should both leave."

"You never did get to be my trophy wife," Rachel blurts out. She'd been thinking about that ever since she arrived at the recording studio. Actually, that was a lie. She'd been thinking about that since the day she heard that her first single became number one.

Quinn throws her hands up. Did professionalism not mean anything anymore? "Rachel, what do you want me to say?"

Rachel takes this seemingly rare open moment and decides to use it. "Do you really believe that what we had was nothing? Was it just you experimenting? O-or was it more?"

"I'm not gay," she says firmly.

"I'm not asking about your current state of orientation," Rachel replies. "I'm asking about your previous feelings for me. Was what we had nothing?"

Quinn nods. As long as Rachel understands where they are now, she'd be able to talk about this. For a little while. A _very _little while. "It wasn't…nothing," she says carefully. She angles her head towards her car. She really wants to leave. This is uncomfortable.

"Then what was it?" Rachel asks.

Quinn turns back to Rachel, her expression unreadable. "You never did like vague answers," she says, almost wistfully.

Rachel shakes her head no. "Quinn, please."

"It was safe," she whispers.

"Just safe?" she prods. "Were there any feelings behind it?"

"I-I guess…yeah."

"Name them." Rachel steps closer, staring Quinn down. Demanding her.

"I don't have time for this." Quinn begins to walk away towards her car. She's already messed up by talking to her about this. She isn't going to talk about this any further.

"Was it love or not, Quinn?" Rachel calls to her as she watches her retreating form.

Quinn opens her car door, debating whether or not she should even entertain her question. "Which one did I say?" she asks in return.

"You've said both. You've told me both."

Quinn sighs. "You have to pick one to believe in."

She gets into her car and shoves her key into the ignition. She feels open and exposed, like a brand new wound. Waiting until she sees Rachel safely get into her own car, she pulls out of the parking lot, heading home.

* * *

><p>The next day finds Quinn and Rachel in Quinn's office, discussing marketing strategies.<p>

"We're going to strive for one hundred percent professionalism today, Berry," Quinn tells her as she sits down.

Rachel nods her head as she takes a seat, opposite Quinn.

Quinn opens a calendar up that she'd been holding and turns the pages to the correct month. "I assume you're no stranger to publicity parties, right Rachel?"

She smiles a little at Quinn. "No, I'm not. Santana has Brittany accompany me to many parties to create a buzz."

"Brittany?" Quinn asks with an eyebrow arch.

"Santana's girlfriend. Beautiful, blonde, tall, leggy, she helps with me being seen. If for no other reason than the fact that she's tall."

Quinn smirks at that. "With your mouth and opinions I find it hard for anyone to overlook you."

Rachel smiles genuinely at that. She missed how playful Quinn could be. It was a rare occurrence and not many people got to see that side of her. It was a part of Quinn that only Rachel owned. Or she used to…

"Are you paying attention?" Quinn asks as she crosses her legs under the table.

She wants to tell Quinn what she was thinking about. She wants to share a candid moment with her like they used to. But she knows that if she breaches any subject of their past relationship that Quinn will shut down.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I was just thinking."

Quinn decides to leave it at that. She _really _doesn't need to know what Rachel was thinking. Especially if it's about them and their…whatever it was they had.

"On the nineteenth of next month there will be a CD release party for Mercedes," Quinn continues. "She's more prominent over here on the west than you are right now and I think that it would be good for you to attend."

"Will I have a date?" Rachel asks, seemingly innocently.

Quinn scowls at her. "No. You will not," she replies curtly. "Besides, it's important for you to stand on your own without a 'beautiful, blonde, leggy' date."

It was said in such a way and with such an inflection that it made both girls give pause. Quinn can't possibly be…

"You do know that Brittany is Santana's girlfriend, right?" Rachel says slowly. "She and I aren't togeth—"

"Date whoever you want."

Quinn stands up to collect her things. "It's not like I want you."

"You don't have to sound like you hate me, Quinn," Rachel retorts.

Quinn's eyes narrow. "Don't start with me, Berry. I don't need this shit today."

"As if I do? It is getting to be tedious and counterproductive for you to continually deny feelings that you have for me."

"_Feelings_?" Quinn echoes. "I don't have any _feelings _for you, Rachel." She glares down at her. "I knew it. You just came here to ruin my life for a second time."

Rachel slowly stands, looking at Quinn as if she's lost her mind. There are _so _many things wrong with that sentence. "I don't even know where to begin…"

"Just admit you wanted to see me miserable for a second time. That's the real reason why you signed to this label."

"I didn't even know you worked at this particular label!" she shouts, angry now. "You have no right in accusing me. President Sylvester didn't want us to have prior knowledge of each other, Quinn. You know that just as well as I do."

"That doesn't mean anything," Quinn walks across the table towards Rachel. "That doesn't mean that you don't get some sick pleasure out of seeing me suffer," she continues.

"Seeing you suffer?" she questions incredulously. "I want to _help _you. Why do you think I haven't just given up by now? I want to help you accept who you are."

"I know what I am," she says solemnly. "And I know what you are. And those two things don't work."

"You don't know what you are, Quinn," Rachel says softly. "Or at least, you won't accept what you are."

Quinn steps even closer and Rachel has to practically break her neck, straining to make eye contact. "Then what am I?" she asks, daring Rachel to speak.

"You're gay," she says simply. "You're a lesbian and the sooner you admit that—"

"Get the hell out of my office."

She begins to walk away but Rachel grabs her arm, disarmingly. "Why are you being so argumentative, Quinn?" she asks quietly. "Is it because we actually got along yesterday? Is it because we can actually be close? Does it scare you that much?"

"Nothing scares me," she replies, voice slightly shaky.

"I scare you," Rachel counters. "You want me, love me and that scares you."

Quinn pulls away, glowering at Rachel scornfully. "Not everyone wants you. The world doesn't love you, Rachel."

"No, Quinn, _my _world apparently doesn't love me," she replies. Her eyes bore into Quinn knowingly, stripping her away in the way that makes Quinn completely uncomfortable.

"I-I'm not your world," she sputters, suddenly scared of what that simple sentence means.

Rachel smiles bitterly at her discomfort. "You don't know what you are to me because you won't open up."

Quinn stares at Rachel, trying to see some sort of crack in the brunette's armor. She doesn't. "Just-just be at the damn party," she mutters. She pulls away from Rachel's grasp and walks out of her office.

Anger and regret churn in her stomach at an alarming rate. Rachel does things to her, made her weak, always had. She walks out of her own office because she can't bear talking to her any longer

Rachel watches as Quinn leaves, once again denying who she is. It's all becoming déjà vu for her. Only this time, she won't allow Quinn to walk away without putting up a fight again. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

**A/N: **Just a little warning, as soon as you scroll down you're going to get a little Quick action.

* * *

><p><em>Quinn fingers the bandage of her new tattoo as she sits atop Puck's bed. She touches it lightly, reverently as a tear falls. "I love her…"<em>

"_I know, Q," Puck says sympathetically. He hates when his friend gets like this. "It's going to be okay. You're just drunk rambling. Let's get you into bed so you can sleep it off."_

_Like a true friend, Puck gives Quinn some of his oversized clothes and helps the girl out of her own and into his. He gently lays her onto the bed before walking to his bedroom door._

"_Please stay."_

_He turns back around to look at Quinn. Her head is resting against his pillow and she's looking toward him with forlorn eyes. Tears, new and old, stain her cheeks and her lips are set in a pout._

_Going against all of his instincts, he leaves the couch behind and climbs into bed with her. Quinn immediately molds her body into his, resting her head against his collarbone._

"_I loved her, Puck," she whispers against his skin._

"_I know you loved her, Quinn." He places a gentle kiss to the top of her head._

"_I _love _her, Puck."_

"_I know that, too."_

_The next thing Puck feels are soft lips pressing against his throat as a lithe body suddenly sits astride him._

"_Whoa, Quinn," he says, alarmed. He grips her hips, ready to carefully push her off. Or so he thought. "We really shouldn't do this."_

"_But you want me," she breathes. This seems like a good idea. A good, drunken idea. "I can feel how much." She slowly rolls her hips forward, his erection resting snuggly against her inner thigh._

_Puck groans as his eyes flutter. His grip on her hips tighten as he stills her deliberate movements. "I want a lot of girls, Mrs. Thomas," he says a little breathlessly, trying to remind her that she was married. "All of them _not _being my best friend." Which is a partial lie. One of his favorite sayings is 'Every man with a straight penis wants Quinn Fabray.'_

"_I don't love him," she says as she kisses up his neck._

_Puck tries to dodge her advances. "You don't love me, either."_

_She finally pulls back to look him in the eye. She's crying even harder now and biting her lip to stifle her sobs. "Please Puck," she cries. "It hurts."_

_He sighs tiredly. Somehow he knows, even in his drunken haze that this isn't a good idea. He flips them over, straddling the girl below him and kisses her hard. If she wants to forget, to feel something else, then he'll be the vehicle for whatever she needs._

_Divesting of his clothes and hers, he gently settles on top of her. She begins crying again and he kisses her softly, silencing her hiccupping sobs._

"_I love her," she mumbles against his lips._

_He pulls back. "Quinn, we don't have to—"_

"_Please."_

Quinn wakes up feeling lonely. She bunches the covers around her, trying to create a sense of companionship. It fails. She sighs. She always seems to have that dream when she's feeling particularly vulnerable and always wakes up the next morning feeling lonely and hollow.

Shaking her head, she grabs her beeping phone from her nightstand and unlocks it. It's a picture message from Puck with the caption, 'Look what your girl did' under it.

She stares at it, anger and something else bubbling inside of her before she flings the covers from her body. She needs to get to work.

* * *

><p>"Quinn, Rachel's here."<p>

"Thank you, Kurt."

Shoulders tight, Quinn arises from her chair in Puck's office and begins to leave the room.

"Wait up." Puck hops up from his seat and gives chase after Quinn. "What are you even going to say to her?"

"I don't know yet," she says, voice laced with tension. "But something needs to be done about this. If she does it once then she'll do it again and I will _not_have it."

Puck grabs her by the shoulder. "Q, wait. Maybe you should cool down first. Let yourself simmer for a while before you go in there and bite her head off."

"She can take it."

She continues to walk forward, leaving an unsure Puck behind. She opens the door to her room to see Rachel sitting opposite her chair at her desk. Walking over to her, she slams the magazine that she had in her hand down on the tabletop. Rachel is this week's hot topic.

"What the hell is this?" she asks as she moves to her side of the desk. She was going to sit down, but she's positively fuming and a seated position isn't wanted at the moment.

Rachel eyes the photo with mild amusement. "From the looks of how blurry it is, I would say it's the work of an inept photog," she says, peering up at Quinn through her long lashes.

"Don't play dumb with me, Berry," she responds, the vein in her neck close to popping.

Rachel sighs as she reclines in her seat. "What do you want me to say, Quinn?"

Quinn leans forward across her desk, hand braced on the desktop. She points to the picture with the other hand. "That whore is straddling you and you have your tongue down her throat," she growls.

"She was not a whore. Maybe a little loose for my taste but she certainly didn't belong in a brothel." At this point Rachel's trying not to laugh. Quinn intimidates the rest of the world, but to Rachel, she's always just been Quinn.

She honestly hadn't meant to get drunk last night. Isn't even much of a drinker by any stretch of the imagination. But Quinn had really pissed her off yesterday. She's still in denial mode and it angered Rachel just as much as it hurt her. If she wants to get drunk and wallow in her own self-pity…with a girl in her lap then she's allowed.

"You think this is funny?" Quinn asks with an arched eyebrow. She's a good two seconds away from exploding.

Rachel shrugs. "I just don't find it that serious."

"It's that serious when our newest artist is caught at a night club at three in the morning, practically fucking some…some…slut!" She really can't think of what else to call her.

"I'm pretty sure fucking isn't a word that should be used between colleagues," Rachel replies smartly. She then grins, raking her eyes down Quinn's body. "Unless those colleagues were—"

"Don't finish that sentence," she retorts with a glare. "Why didn't you just go home after Mercedes' party?"

"I was feeling…" Lonely. Rachel felt incredibly lonely last night and the last place she wanted to go was back to her empty apartment. She shrugs. "I just wanted to stay out. However, you are right. I had not intended to be seen and photographed. That doesn't change the fact that it happened and I'm sorry. Next time I'll think about who's watching before I act."

"What was her name?" Quinn is rapidly changing subjects and Rachel, still a little hung over, is having a hard time keeping up.

She focuses on the floor as she tries to remember. "Tina…something."

"Tina?" Quinn scoffs. "Her name even sounds whorish."

"Quinn, I'm curious," Rachel says as she leans in slightly. "Are you upset with me because this looks bad for the label? Or are you angry with me because I'm making out with other girls?"

"I don't want you, Berry."

"Are you sure?" Rachel slowly takes a stand and walks over to Quinn's side of the desk.

"You can leave now."

Rachel looks up at Quinn, all sense of playfulness gone. "How much longer are you going to deny us?" she asks softly. She grabs Quinn's arm and gently pulls her closer.

Quinn halfheartedly tries to pull away. "Rachel," she says firmly. "I'm not—"

"You don't have to put a label on it. Can't you just say you're in love?" she asks, begs. "Can't that be it? Tell the world whatever you want. You can be bi or straight, whatever. Just try. With me."

"I can't," she breathes through a shuddery breath.

"You won't."

"That, too," she nods.

Rachel drags her fingertips down a pale arm. Quinn trembles as she feels Rachel take her hand. She feels sixteen again, the day she let Quinn leave her without a fight replaying in her head again and again. "This isn't wrong." She brings Quinn's hand up to her heart and clutches it tightly. "Love isn't wrong, Quinn. I promise. It's beautiful."

Quinn's eyes become watery as she stares at her hand over Rachel's heart. Her dream about Puck, this moment, it was all beginning to come crashing down. "Two girls," she whimpers, "cannot love, or touch, or _feel—_"

"Yes, we can," Rachel says calmly.

"We can't," she whispers, looking at Rachel pleadingly. "It's wrong. Everyone says it's wrong."

Rachel looks at her sadly, her heart breaking. Inside Quinn is the same young girl whose entire world and belief system had been shaped by the wrong people. She'd heard about what happened to Quinn by some of the girl's close friends at school after she left. It broke her heart over and over for years as she remembered Quinn leaving her for the final time. "It's not wrong," she whispers gently. She takes a step closer. "What those people at your school told you, your parents, they're all wrong. I can show you."

Quinn watches as she steps closer. Rachel reaches out slowly and wipes a tear that Quinn didn't even know had fallen. Her breath hitches. Parts of her are screaming at her to run, but other parts are already melting into the warmth that Rachel created. The warmth she was looking for when she woke up this morning. When she woke up every morning.

Rachel holds her breath. This was the closest she's been to Quinn in seven years. Her whole body is aching to be pressed against Quinn's but she knows to take it slow. She can't jeopardize what they have in this moment.

"I love you," she whispers quietly but surely.

Quinn's eyes widen. "Rachel…" She looks at her helplessly.

"I know." Rachel nods her head.

She panics. She can't help it. Her heart pumps wildly in her chest as she battles all instincts that tell her to stay; to enjoy Rachel's warmth, her love. "Rachel, just go," she begs. "Please, just…go home."

Her hand slips through small tan ones as she watches hurt blossom on Rachel's face. Guilt begins to creep around the edges of her heart.

"You look…tired," she says in a stilted voice. Then she glares down at the brunette. "And hung over."

Rachel smiles a little at Quinn's attempt to smooth things over. "I am a little tired," she admits.

"Go home, Rachel," she whispers. "You need to rest."

"We're not finished talking about this."

Quinn swallows thickly, averting her gaze. "You need to rest," she repeats.

Rachel nods her head. She drags her hand down Quinn's arm, her eyes tracking the very movement. She feels her stiffen, but to her credit, Quinn doesn't pull away. Her piercing gaze flits between Rachel's own warm brown eyes and the hand creating fire up and down her arm. Rachel reaches her hand, and gives it a quick squeeze before pulling away. "I need to rest."

She stares into Quinn's eyes and watches in awe as her hazel gaze sort of softens. She hasn't seen that look in years. "I'll see you later, Quinn."

Quinn nods, not trusting her voice as she watches Rachel leave her office.

She sits back down in her chair. She feels…something. She'd never before cried at work and she doesn't want to start now. But her thoughts are racing and her heart is in shambles that ache with promise. It hurts. She mourns what was and what could never be again.

A tear falls.

"_I-I like you, Quinn."_

_The words were said timidly, Rachel blushing from head to toe, shifting from one foot to the other._

"_I like you, too, Rachel," Quinn replies, looking at the girl quizzically. "That's the whole reason why we're friends. Why are you acting weird?"_

"_No," Rachel says, shaking her head. "You misunderstand."_

"_Then help me understand."_

_Rachel bites her lip in contemplation. This is embarrassing. She'd had a speech prepared, but she can't remember it._

"_I would very much like to kiss you," she blurts out suddenly. Her eyes widen as she reddens even more. She clamps a hand over her mouth as her eyes shut tight._

_Quinn had been eating pizza. It was her second slice and it was tasting better and better with each bite. But Rachel's words surprise her so much that she freezes, pizza inches from her mouth. "…Huh?"_

"_Nothing." Rachel quickly stands. "I'll go get you another slice of pizza." She swiftly walks out of the room._

To this day Quinn's still not sure why Rachel ran out. It was obvious that the she had heard her. She shakes her head back and forth with a fond smile as she wipes at a tear. Typical Rachel.

_Quinn gets up, licking her fingers clean before following Rachel into the kitchen. She finds the girl with her hands braced on the countertop, head hanging down._

"_Rach, what's wrong?" She walks over to the girl. Rachel mumbles something that Quinn can't hear. She turns the girl around so that they're face to face._

"_You want to try that again?" she asks gently._

_Rachel pouts cutely as she averts her eyes, wiping her tears. "I said I want to kiss you," she mumbles again._

_Quinn places a single finger under Rachel's chin and gently lifts her face. "Who said you couldn't?" she asks once their eyes lock._

_Before Rachel can even say anything Quinn leans down to brush their lips together. She hears Rachel whimper at the contact and decides that she made the right move. Quinn's brings her hands up to cup Rachel's wet cheeks in her hand, wiping her tears away._

_Rachel grabs Quinn by the hips, pulling her closer. She softly moves her lips against Quinn's, marveling about how soft her lips were. She pulls back when she needs air, panting slightly._

"_This is my first kiss that actually counts," she mumbles against Quinn's lips._

_Quinn smirks and says the only thing on her mind at that moment. "Score."_

She laughs quietly to herself at the memory. It was so much easier when she was younger.

"Creep."

She scowls.

"I hate you," she says to Puck as he walks into her office.

"No way, no how," he retorts. "How did she take it?" he asks as he sits in the chair recently occupied by Rachel.

"Not seriously," Quinn grumbles as she scowls at the memory of the past twenty minutes.

"Did you really expect her to? I mean, come on, Q. She's young, she's hot, and she's going to flirt and play the field a little."

Quinn rubs her forehead as she sits back in her seat. She doesn't want Rachel to 'play the field.' And she sure as hell doesn't want evidence of that to be shoved in her face at a constant rate.

"Oh, shit." Puck covers his mouth with his hand, smiling enigmatically. He knows her too well.

"What?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Puck looks at her in disbelief. "You, my friend, are jealous."

"No," Quinn says adamantly. "There's no way in hell I'm jealous of anything. Why would I be?"

"Because you like girl parts," he says in a sing-song voice. "Especially Rachel's."

"Why are you even here?" she asks, needing a subject change.

Puck straightens his tie, as he gains an air of professionalism. "I'm here because President Sylvester wants me to tell you that there is going to be yet another party for one of our artists."

Quinn shrugs. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Sue would like for you to attend," he says with a smirk, "as Rachel's date."

"Excuse me," she says, hisses. "Why the _hell _do I have to go as her date?"

"Because of the little stunt that she pulled with that chick that landed her in the magazine. Sue doesn't want that kind of thing happening again and she wants you to go along with Rachel to make sure that doesn't happen."

She blinks in disbelief. Is this really happening? "Why can't you do it?"

"Sue doesn't think I'm responsible enough," he grumbles. "She said you're more no nonsense and quicker to kick someone's ass. I can kick ass, Q. You know that right?"

Quinn misses the opportunity to reassure her friend in his ass kicking abilities as she feels her world spiral. After the encounter that she's had with Rachel recently, she really doesn't want to spend more time with her than she has to, let alone _prolonged _time.

"I can't do this," she whispers.

Puck sees the look of terror on his friend's face and leans forward in his seat. "Quinn, this is just a job. It's alright," he soothes. "All you have to do is escort her to the party, and watch her to make sure she doesn't get out of hand."

"Rachel was never known for having a drinking problem," she rationalizes. "This must have just been a onetime thing. I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Quinn, you haven't had any contact with that chick since you were sixteen. It probably wasn't legal for her to even drink at that age in Ohio. Maybe now she's a full blown lush."

She glares at him for the comment he made.

"Sorry. I'm sure she's not a heavy drinker at all," he says, trying to hide his smile.

"She's not," Quinn says sternly, glare still in place. She hears Puck's phone beep and rolls her eyes. Girls always seem to call during his work hours. "You have to go."

He smiles at her wryly. "Booty calls."

Hopping out of his seat, he quickly leaves Quinn's office in favor of his own for what will probably be twelve o'clock phone sex…in the workplace.

Quinn shakes her head. Sue should have never soundproofed everyone's office. She glances down at her phone, contemplating whether or not to call Rachel and inform her of this new development. She decides against it. Today has already been jarring enough. She doesn't need any more…whatever it is that's left between her and Rachel.

She scratches the back of her head as she tries to weigh the pros and cons of actually _being _with Rachel. There are certainly pros. But there are cons as well.

"_There will be a program," a stern voice starts, "implemented over the next few years of your life."_

_Quinn sits in the very back of four rows of seats; all filled with girls. She pays them no mind. Doesn't really pay anybody any mind. She keeps thinking of Rachel, trying not to cry._

"_All of you have been sent here by your parents for various reasons." The speaker, a tall burly woman, eyes Quinn almost accusingly. "Some of those reasons more immoral than others."_

_Quinn fidgets in her seat at those words. Why was everyone calling her that word? It's beginning to get annoying and more than a little degrading. She looks around self-consciously._

"_You will be here for the remainder of your high school career. You will eat here, sleep here, get your education, you guessed it, _here_," she says with a twisted chortle. "You _will_learn your lesson, one way or the other."_

_She wants to ask what the 'other' way is, but she's afraid of the answer. _

"_Ruth." Another tall, redheaded woman walks to the other woman's side from the back of the room. The tall woman whispers into Ruth's ear and Ruth's green eyes scan the room until they land on Quinn._

_She looks away, wanting to look as inconspicuous as possible._

_Ruth's mouth warps into a feral grin, all teeth and saliva as she practically leaps to Quinn's side. "Come with me, dear," she says sweetly. "I'll personally show you to your room."_

_Ruth leads Quinn to her new room where they deposit her things. "Meg tells me you're a special case," she tells Quinn, speaking of the tall woman that was doing most of the speaking earlier. "We have to be very attentive towards you."_

"_I'm not a bad person," Quinn says insistently. "And I'm not wrong or immoral. If I love another girl then there's nothing wrong with that."_

_Ruth regards her in a calculating way. "You're tough," she whispers more to herself than to Quinn. "We'll have a hard time breaking you."_

_Quinn hears her anyway and answers defiantly. "Try me."_

She shivers at the memory of all the ways they successfully broke her. _This_is a con to dating Rachel, she reminds herself. She resists the urge to curl into a ball. It wouldn't look good at work. But she needs comfort. And Puck is gone. Leaning forward, she rests her head against her desk. Her right hand reaches to rest on her left hip, her gold star. That's all the comfort she needs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q. 

* * *

><p>Quinn neatly folds her hands in her lap; an unconscious display of her mother's deep rooted teachings. This is how ladies sit.<p>

But she's not performing the act with the purpose of acting like a lady. She's performing the act because she's nervous. She's sitting in the back seat of an all-black Lincoln Town Car, something inconspicuous. The driver is the typical Hollywood designated driver, complete with chauffer hat.

Quinn rests her back against the seat, forcing the tendons in her shoulders to loosen and relax as she takes calming breaths. This shouldn't be this hard. She's been to parties before. She's _partied _before. It's fun. A great escape from the norm. But this is different. This is Rachel. Rachel gets under her skin like no other and faster than anything else. She was at her boarding school for all of six months before their teachings even _began _to take effect. But Rachel's been in LA, in her life, for all of two months and the effects of her presence are becoming obvious to Quinn. She invades all of her thoughts, dreams, even her own physical space at times. Quinn shuffles awkwardly in the back seat of the car. Twitchy, nervous, anxious, shifty.

"We're here, Mrs. Thomas."

"Fabray," she corrects. "And thank you. I'll be out in just a minute."

She gets out of the car, pulling at her dress where it rode up on her thigh and walks to Rachel's apartment building. "This is going to be a bitch," she comments, referring to having to ride an elevator all the way up to the ninth floor.

All too soon in Quinn's opinion, she's standing in front of Rachel's door. She doesn't have to be there. She could have waited in the car. But it's mannerable to meet someone at their door. And Quinn Fabray is a lot of things, but no one can ever say she doesn't have manners.

She knocks three times and waits. And waits. She checks her watch before coughing nervously into her fist. And waits.

Finally the door swings open and a very flustered Rachel comes into view. "I'll be ready in a minute!" she says as a greeting, already halfway back to her room.

Quinn smiles a little at that as she rolls her eyes. Rachel is rarely ready when she's supposed to be. How she manages to make it to various important meetings on time, Quinn would never know.

She walks into the apartment, closing the door behind her as she surveys her surroundings. She's in the living room. Everything looks indie and bohemian. It looks so…Rachel.

"I'm really sorry about not being ready," Rachel calls from her bedroom. "You can sit on the couch in there if you want. I have a Streisand movie in the DVD player if you'd like—"

"No thanks," Quinn says quickly.

She hears a small laugh waft through the apartment. "I keep forgetting that not everyone loves her as much as I do. But really, Quinn, you should embrace the icon that is Barbara Streisand. Her movies are…epic. And—"

Not it's Quinn's turn to laugh. "Just because I work in something as cool and glamorous as the music industry doesn't mean that my vocabulary doesn't stretch further than what the 'cool kids' are saying these days."

"How true," Rachel concedes and Quinn can hear the smile in her voice. "Forgive me."

Quinn says nothing more as she takes a seat on the couch Rachel mentioned. Her smile's still in place. This is easy. Light hearted conversation is easy. When Rachel tries to bring up their past, when she has thoughts, memories, dreams of her past, that's always hard.

"I'll be out in a second," Rachel calls to Quinn as she races to her dresser to put on lip gloss. She's dressed in a purple dress with black heels on. Her hair hangs down in loose curls. It was Quinn's favorite when they were younger. She hopes that much hasn't changed.

Finally presentable, she walks out of her bedroom and into the living room where Quinn is. "How do I look?" she asks as she gives a twirl.

Quinn looks at her then. Her throat dries up as she tries to clear it. She never looks down, eyes firmly locked on Rachel's. "You look good," she comments.

Rachel, however, drinks in Quinn's appearance, the black dress, slightly longer than Rachel's, a pair of fuck me heels and hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Elegant, yet sexy. Very sexy. Rachel eyes the ponytail with interest. She wants to undo it and run her fingers through the long locks. She always liked Quinn best with her hair down. She always liked for Quinn to be free.

"You look great, Quinn," she murmurs as she walks closer to her. She doesn't want to ruffle her feathers by using words like 'beautiful' or 'sexy' to describe her although the words are on the tip of her tongue.

Quinn blushes slightly, muttering, "Thanks."

"You remind me of the sixteen year old version of yourself," Rachel comments with a small smile. She was the only person that could ever make Quinn blush and she's at least thankful that it hasn't seemed to change with time.

"She's gone," Quinn whispers almost glumly. The mood in the room instantly changes and Rachel curses herself. Tonight was supposed to be light and fun.

She swallows thickly as she looks at Quinn. Since the mood is gone, she may as well continue. "Do you miss her?"

Quinn shrugs halfheartedly, defenses slowly crawling back up as she chooses to look at a nearby wall instead of Rachel. And Rachel can sense it. She sees all the signs of Quinn's persona seeming to ice over right before her eyes.

"I miss her." Rachel feels as if she has to try something, anything.

Hazel eyes snap up to dark brown. Quinn regards her carefully, not letting one emotion across her face until she whispers, "She misses you, too."

Before Rachel can even process the words spoken to her, Quinn is halfway to her door. "Hurry up, Berry."

Rachel nods, still not believing she heard right as she walks behind Quinn. They make it to the car and hop in, situating themselves.

"Sorry for the long wait, George," Quinn apologizes to the chauffer.

"It's no problem," he replies lightly as he puts the car in drive.

Rachel turns to look at Quinn. When she isn't acknowledged she frowns slightly before facing forward. This is obviously going to be a long night.

Quinn rests back against the seat with a soft sigh. She felt Rachel's eyes on her, burning a hole right through her. But she didn't feel like dealing with what was said back at her apartment. It wouldn't change anything.

They sit in relative silence all the way to the club. Rachel gets out of the car first followed by Quinn.

"Rachel!"

"Rachel, wait!"

A small swarm of people with cameras come seemingly out of nowhere and crowd around the woman in question. Rachel puts on a polite smile, as does Quinn while they try to navigate through the group. A herd of questions are thrown her way, most of which she shrugs off or doesn't answer at all. But one question catches her attention.

"Rachel, is she your date?"

Both Quinn and Rachel give pause at the question. Quinn turns to look at the man that posed the question, fully prepared to throttle him.

"She is not my date."

With that, Rachel turns away from the man and walks into the club. Quinn blinks a few times in shock, before she follows numbly behind.

She follows Rachel's lead until they come to a stop at the bar. Rachel takes a seat on the stool and Quinn sits beside her.

"Thank you," she says quietly. The music is up to an obnoxious level and Quinn has to compete with it for Rachel's ear drums. "That could have ended badly and you handled it very well."

"You're welcome," Rachel says as she orders two shots of Vodka. "I propose a toast."

Quinn eyes her suspiciously before taking the offered shot. "What kind of toast?"

"To us," she says a little cynically as she holds up her glass. "May we never know what could have been."

"Rachel…" Quinn whispers, at a loss for words. "I –I can't toast to that."

"Why not? It's what you want isn't it?"

Quinn doesn't say anything.

"That's what I thought." Rachel tosses back her shot, swallows the bitter yet sweet taste that oddly reminds her of her current relationship with Quinn. She orders one more before sliding off of the stool she was on and walking away. Hazel eyes track her movements through the throng of people until Rachel becomes lost in the crowd.

"And you call me the fuck up."

Quinn turns in the direction of the voice and sees Puck walking her way. "I thought you weren't coming," she says to him in an accusatory voice.

Puck smirks as he takes residence in the seat Rachel left. "I never said I _wasn't _coming," he informs her. "I just said that Sue told me I couldn't be Rachel's date."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"You never asked."

Quinn says nothing, as she turns back to look in the direction that Rachel went. She worries her bottom lip, wondering how long Rachel was going to be mad at her.

"What did you say to her?" Puck asks as he watches Quinn's concerned face.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Come on, Q. She wouldn't have stormed off the way she did if you didn't say anything to upset her."

Quinn turns halfway to face him. "Paparazzo asked if I was her date and she said no," she explains with a shrug. "So I said 'thank you' and now she's upset."

"I'm sure it's more than that," he says wisely as he watches Quinn order another shot and down it. She orders yet another and he makes a mental note to keep track of how many shots she consumes tonight.

She shrugs. Again. "It probably is," she agrees quietly. Her hands drum against the side of her new shot glass before knocking it back. The alcohol swirls around in her belly, warming her with waves of guilt. The entire time Rachel had been here she had only been trying to help, get closer to her and Quinn did nothing but treat her like shit.

"I don't treat her right, do I?" she grumbles, looking into the empty shot glass.

"What?" Puck calls to her loudly. "The music's too loud in here so you're going to have to speak up."

"I said, why am I such a dick?" she questions as she faces him more fully. "Why the hell do I constantly have to treat her like shit?"

Puck puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're just scared, Quinn," he tells her gently. "Which technically doesn't make you a dick. It makes you a pussy."

She signals the bartender for another shot. "Should I apologize?"

"That might be a step in the right direction," he says with a nod. "And you should probably quit drinking. Don't want a repeat of you know what."

Quinn nods before drinking what she promised would be her last shot. "She just…she wants so much from me, Puck. And I really don't think I can give her what she wants and needs. I can't measure up and I think she deserves better."

"Quinn, I've dated a lot of girls," he starts. "And from my experience, they don't like when you make decisions forthem."

"But, I'm not—"

"You've decided for Rachel that you don't deserve her. So now you're acting bitchy towards her in hopes that she'll, what? Stop loving you? It won't make her stop loving you, Q. It'll just piss her off. _Really _piss her off."

"But I…" She's at a loss. "I _left _her, Puck. How could she forgive me and love me after that?"

Puck shrugs. "Love's powerful?" Honestly, he's a little drunk and doesn't have the higher brain functions to talk about this much longer. "You should go talk to her." He takes the new shot she ordered and downs it himself. "You don't need this anyway."

She was about to retort, but a big, warm hand grips her shoulder.

"Hey, guys! How are my two important people doing?" William Schuester greets Quinn and Puck with hard pats to the shoulder.

Quinn winces a little. "Someone's had too much to drink," she grumbles. Then much louder, "Congratulations, Will. You deserve it. Platinum? No one saw it coming."

He offers her a crooked grin in thanks. "President Sylvester definitely didn't see it coming. She's been looking for reasons to void my contract for months. But this platinum album ensures that I'll be around at least for a little while longer."

Puck and Will begin to talk amongst themselves about sports and Quinn uses the opportunity to quietly slip away and look for Rachel. She walks in the direction that Rachel took about twenty minutes before and winds up in the back of the club.

It's dark and she has to squint to see. But she eventually does see. She sees Rachel in a dark corner of the club laughing with a woman standing directly in front of her. Quinn's eyes narrow as she watches closer.

The woman positions a hand on the wall nearby Rachel's head and leans in further. She says something that must have been hilarious because Rachel bursts into a fit of giggles for a second time.

Quinn watches the way Rachel's mouth moves as she talks to the other girl. Maybe it's the alcohol, but watching those full lips part and move is…doing things to her. She watches closely as Rachel's tongue briefly wets her bottom lip. She doesn't know whether to be aroused or incredibly angry at the intimate proximity that the two women seem to be favoring at the moment.

When the girl in question leans into Rachel, whispering words in her ear, Quinn decides that incredibly angry is the route she wants to go. She watches as Rachel's eyes begin to wander until they land on her. She looks at Quinn in shock, eyes bulging. Quinn stares back for a moment before turning around and walking away.

She can't believe this. And to think she was actually going to apologize for treating Rachel the way she did.

Her heels clack powerfully against the floor as she walks at a brisk pace, climbing up nearby stairs. She continues walking until she gets to a door. It's a VIP room and with all the real VIP downstairs Quinn figures she can have some alone time to sulk in what will hopefully be an empty room.

She walks into the room and slams the door angrily. Pacing back and forth across the floor like an angry lion she keeps thinking of Rachel's lips. Quinn tries to focus on how close Rachel seems to be with that unknown woman, the part that makes her angry, but the only thing she can think about is her lips, the part that keeps spiking her arousal. Her breath hisses out through her flared nostrils as she continues to pace and think. Her mind wanders further from that moment but can't seem to forget Rachel's lips. She reluctantly thinks of how those lips feel on her skin. How warm and inviting they are. How agile and accurate Rachel's tongue always seemed to be. Always hitting the right…

"Quinn?"

Rachel had been watching her for some time. Apparently Quinn was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't see her come in. But she turns around and Rachel takes in the positively primal look on her face. Lust and anger creating a sinful look and Rachel can't resist. "I –I saw you run off and I wanted to follow you," she continues. "Make sure you're alright."

Quinn's jaw clenches as she looks at Rachel. She allows her eyes to wander lower, to appreciate Rachel's body the way she didn't do earlier. She eyes her impossibly long legs, curvy hips, slim waist, and ample cleavage. She licks her suddenly dry lips as she finally meets now darker eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" she snaps.

Rachel sighs. She really doesn't want to play this game right now. "You were glaring daggers at Tina and me," she says. "I wanted to check on you and also inform you not to drink any more alcohol. Lest you do something you'll regret."

Her eyes harden at the mention of Tina. So that's the woman that Rachel had been with. Again. "I'm not a drunk," she says coldly as she takes a threatening step closer. She stands directly in front of Rachel, looming over her. The smell of apples saturates the air around them and Quinn's foggy head clouds over even further.

Rachel rapidly shakes her head. "I wasn't saying that you were. It's just that, when people are feeling extreme emotions they sometimes turn to alcohol as a means of pacifying themselves."

"You mean like you did?" she instantly retorts. "What extreme emotions would I be feeling right now, Rachel?" Quinn is quickly becoming defensive and Rachel knows that she's about to find herself in the middle of an argument.

Instead of giving the obvious answer, Rachel decides on a different tactic. "You tell me."

Quinn pauses. She was expecting Rachel to blurt out the word 'jealous'. But this was a bit of a surprise. "Right now I'm feeling a little annoyed," she grits through her teeth.

Rachel glares right back at her, completely fed up with Quinn's shit. "Well, excuse me for actually caring about you," she says as she turns to walk away. A strong hand grabs her wrist and she turns around quickly.

Quinn stares down at her. At that moment, staring into defiant yet hopeful eyes, Quinn's not sure whether she wants to kill Rachel or kiss her. She decides on the one that'll leave her with less legal trouble.

Her lips crash almost violently against Rachel's as if she's trying to devour her. Consume her and leave nothing left for _Tina_. She takes the hand in her grasp and pins it behind Rachel's back as she backs them up to a nearby wall.

Their teeth clash together roughly and Quinn's tongue is all over the place as she reminds Rachel just who she belongs to. Rachel squeals from the shear intensity of it all. Quinn's thirst, her hunger for Rachel is more intoxicating than any alcohol that they both had consumed. Slender fingers grip Quinn's ponytail before releasing it from confinement. Quinn's hair cascades down her back in waves and Rachel wastes no time in weaving her fingers through it. She moans when a toned thigh slips between her legs and gives a tug on the blonde locks in her grasp. She feels Quinn purr into her mouth at the sensation and it only serves to make her wetter.

Quinn's mouth is relentless as she moves from Rachel's lips to her jaw, her neck, sucking. She roughly bites the skin there and Rachel cries out, her hips thrusting quickly against Quinn's thigh. Her arousal smears pale skin and Quinn moans at the feeling.

Her hand that had been busy pinning Rachel's own releases its hold and palms Rachel's breasts, as she continues to nip at the tender flesh of her neck. "Quinn," Rachel pants. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," she responds lowly. She pinches at an erect nipple through the fabric of Rachel's dress. "I don't care."

Rachel nods before whining in the back of her throat at the pleasurable pain that shoots straight between her thighs. Her hips continue to move on their own accord, pushing against the thigh nestled between her legs.

"Why do I want you?" Quinn growls into tan flesh before licking. She moves up to Rachel's ear, and gives it a sharp bite. "Why do I need you?"

Rachel's body tenses at the bite as if she doesn't want it, then slackens as she moans wantonly. "Because you love me," she answers breathily.

Quinn growls again in anger. "I'm not supposed to." She yanks Rachel's strapless dress down quickly, moaning at the fact that she didn't wear a bra when tan globes and darkened peaks come into view. She licks her lips as she stares at her nipples. They seem to harden and pucker under her watchful eye and Quinn leans down. "I shouldn't."

Rachel cries out loudly, back arching when Quinn's warm mouth engulfs a nipple. Both hands find blonde locks now, keeping her firmly in place. "But you do," she whimpers. "You always will."

Quinn doesn't respond. She can't because she's rolling a tender nipple between her teeth. She can't help but moan at the feeling of having Rachel in her mouth again. It's incredible. It's so wrong, but so incredible. Her left hand finds Rachel's other breast and tweaks the nipple carefully. She bites down on the right nipple and pinches the left one at the same time. Rachel floods as she continues to ride Quinn's thigh faster and faster, still tugging on her hair and moaning her name. Her own thigh seeks out red drenched panties and Quinn gives pause.

Quinn groans as she stops her ministrations. "Fuck…" She uses one hand for balance against the wall as she rises up to bite down on the flesh of Rachel's neck. "Mine." She wants, _needs _Rachel to only be hers and not Tina's.

"Yes." Rachel arches against Quinn, tossing her head back to give her more access. "All yours." Quinn sucks like her life depends on it, bruising the delicate skin, marking what's hers. Her hand skims down and under Rachel's dress. She cups her gently, feeling the warmth and moisture there. "Did you fuck her?"

"Who?" Rachel whimpers. Coherent thought has left her because a wandering finger has just reached past the barrier of her panties.

Quinn moans at the feeling of soft, damp flesh as she slowly strokes Rachel's lower lips. She's missed this. She shouldn't have missed this, but she did. She does. "You know who," she accuses. "_Tina_."

Rachel whimpers again. Her hips shift closer to the tormenting hand between her legs, Quinn's finger teasing her opening. Wetness undoubtedly coats her fingers. "Quinn, please."

"Answer me," she demands. She leans down to bite a taut nipple, smirking when she feels Rachel squirm under her.

"No," Rachel tells her with an impatient growl of her own. "I didn't sleep with h- fuck, _Quinn!_"

She's cut off when Quinn slams two fingers into her and stops. She breathes heavily into Rachel's neck, licking the sweat already beginning to form, sucking gently on the mark she gave her as she waits for the girl to adjust.

"Please…" she hears Rachel whisper. Nodding her head, she slowly pulls out before thrusting back in.

Rachel moans loudly at the feeling. She clutches Quinn to her tightly her hips pump faster and faster, in time with Quinn's rhythm. Quinn's thumb immediately finds Rachel's clit and she circles it quickly, wanting to make the girl come as soon as possible.

Rachel's head is reeling. She's panting into the still air and her hips are moving more and more jerkily. She's close already. She's missed this, missed Quinn. Her eyes roll back as Quinn hits her spot perfectly. Her lungs empty as she practically yells at the sensation.

Quinn smirks as a low, sensual laugh slithers from her throat. "Found it."

"You always find it," Rachel retorts. It was true. Out of the three lovers Rachel has had in her life aside from Quinn, the woman in front of her was the only one to hit every fucking time with every fucking thrust.

"Quinn…" she groans as her legs begin to tremble and feel numb. Any minute now. Her hands become aggressive as she gropes down Quinn's sides. One hand reaches back up to tug on a nipple as the other travels lower and under her dress. She wants to be able to touch, too. She wants to feel the familiar sensation of Quinn, tight, and wet clenching around her fingers.

A hand grips her wrist for a second time. "No," Quinn says gravely as she pins Rachel's hand against the wall.

"Quinn," she whines as her hips pick up speed. "Please."

She shakes her head. "I can't." She looks Rachel in the eye, pleading for her to just take it at face value and stop. "If you don't stop, I will."

Rachel nods at that. She _really _doesn't want Quinn to stop. After months of Quinn denying everything that had to do with them and even her own feelings, Rachel will pretty much take whatever Quinn is willing to give.

Quinn stares into Rachel's eyes as she thrusts into her faster. She pants, sweat beading her brow as she licks her lips. Rachel looks so fucking beautiful and Quinn cann't look away if she wanted to. She continues to stare into chocolate eyes, her expression torn, almost pained. She really wants to—

"Kiss me," Rachel whispers as she looks into dark hazel eyes.

And Quinn wants to. No one has any clue how much she wants to. But she rapidly shakes her head back and forth. "No." This is already too much. Fucking Rachel, admitting to always wanting her, it's too much. Kissing is a gesture far too intimate for her. She had already kissed her before, but it had been impulsive. But now, now Rachel is wet and writhing around her fingers begging for it. It's too much.

"It's okay," Rachel says. Her eyes flutter as Quinn continually hits the exact same spot without fail. "Quinn, baby, I'm so close. _Please_, just kiss me." She won't be able to come unless she's able to taste her in some way.

Quinn stares at Rachel with the same pained expression. When a pink tongue darts out to trace a bottom lip, just as it had done when Rachel was talking to Tina, her eyes track the movement. She wants this but she's scared. But she can't resist. She leans forward quickly before she loses her nerve.

Her lips brush softly, lovingly against Rachel's. Her eyes roll back at the tender feeling and she whimpers against Rachel's lips when she feels that same tongue she'd been watching for what feels like all night lick at her own lips. Rachel enters Quinn's mouth and connects with her tongue. Her entire body stiffens as she tastes her for the second time in years. She moans Quinn's name into her mouth over and over again as her hips move jerkily against the hand against her.

Quinn feels Rachel's strong, inner muscles clench around her fingers rapidly and her own body stiffens. She leans heavily against the other woman as she whimpers Rachel's name. She pulls away from the kiss, burrowing into the warm flesh of Rachel's neck as her whole world comes apart.

Rachel holds her as she feels Quinn shudder against her. She slowly regains control of her body and slumps back against the wall. Her bangs sticks to her forehead messily and she wipes her sweaty brow. Brows that furrow when she feels dampness against her neck. "Quinn?"

She lightly pushes Quinn back to see tears in her eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asks as she reaches out to brush a tear away.

Quinn quickly dodges the hand as she stumbles backwards. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispers as she looks Rachel in the eye. "I wasn't…"

"It's alright," Rachel says as she takes a cautious step closer. "Quinn it's alright. Just come here."

"I have to go." She angrily wipes at the tears falling from her eyes. This _really _wasn't supposed to happen. Ever. And she can't fall into Rachel's arms and act as if the last seven years didn't happen. As if the two years she was in boarding school didn't happen. As if her own _mother _calling her impure didn't happen.

She looks at Rachel as she fixes her clothes. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I don't know what happened."

"Stop acting like this was wrong or a mistake," Rachel tells her gently. "Granted, I would have loved for the place we made love to not be so…public, but I don't consider this a mistake, Quinn."

"It was a mistake," Quinn retorts quickly. Hurt instantly flashes across Rachel's face. Quinn backs up slowly. She can't take much more of this.

"I have to go," she says again, this time meaning it. She walks over to the door and grabs the handle.

"Quinn, wait!" Rachel cries. Quinn briefly gives pause. "Please stay."

Quinn sighs heavily. In just two sentences Rachel managed to take Quinn back to her last day in Lima, Ohio when the Rachel begged her not to leave, and also to the night she got her tattoo and begged Puck not to leave her.

Her jaw clenches as her grip on the handle tightens. She can either walk out of this room and pretend nothing happened again, thus possibly ensuring that Rachel would hate her forever. Or she can risk it all and turn back around to her. Quinn's mind races as she tries to figure out what move iss best, self preservation always played a part in her life. What is she to do? 


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q. 

* * *

><p>"Why won't you just let me go?"<p>

Quinn whispers the words as the hand that's not gripping the door knob with a vice like grip viciously wipes at tears. She was two seconds away from just walking and Rachel asked her to stay. She slowly turns the door knob to the right, fully prepared to leave.

"Don't leave me," Rachel whispers back. She slowly walks forward until she's directly behind the rigid body in front of her. She cautiously reaches a hand out and lightly places it on Quinn's shoulder. "Just…stay here," she whispers. "With me."

"I can't." Quinn feels Rachel take her hand away. She sighs in relief. But it's short lived when not even a minute later Rachel's hand makes an appearance again on her own. She covers Quinn's hand on the door knob, gripping it tightly.

She hears Rachel's uneven breathing behind her as the girl moves impossibly closer, molding her body into Quinn's. Against her own accord, Quinn's body relaxes slightly. She breathes in deeply. Rachel smells of sex, alcohol, and apples. So perfect.

"You can try," she murmurs. Her head rests gently against Quinn's back, moving in time with Quinn's deep breaths.

Her hand tightens against Quinn's own. The shaky hand in her grasp loosens its hold on the door knob reluctantly and Quinn bites down hard on her bottom lip as she leans forward against the door, forehead resting against the cool metal.

Rachel feels the body in front of her shake softly and she sighs quietly as she wraps her arms around Quinn's waist from behind. She places gentle kisses to her shoulder while making cooing sounds.

"It's alright," she whispers as her hold tightens. "We'll be alright."

"I can't…" she sobs as her bottom lip trembles. "I can't be –I can't love. I can't do _anything_," she whimpers piteously. "You don't know, Rachel. You don't _know_."

"Then help me understand."

Quinn shakes her head. She doesn't want to talk about this. What good will come of it? Rachel can't change anything. "Don't make me," she begs. "Please."

"Turn around, Quinn." Rachel grasps both of the girl's shoulders and gently turns her around. She pushes stray blonde locks behind her ear and cups her face. "Please don't kiss me."

The words feel like a blow to the gut and Rachel instantly lets go. "I'm not. I wasn't going to."

An apology is on the tip of Quinn's tongue. What she said wasn't necessary and her callous remark hurt Rachel's feelings. She takes a step forward, filling the void that Rachel created when she backed away. Apologizing.

She sniffles, the last of her tears drying on her face as she looks down at the floor. She rubs her forehead, a nervous habit.

Rachel stares at her, resisting the urge to shake her head in both pity and anger. Whoever did this to her Quinn can go to hell. She's weak, broken, hiding behind a confident and indifferent personality. And she was able to fool everyone. Everyone but Rachel. She can see the listlessness in her hazel eyes, the slight tremor that wracked her body periodically as her eyes lost focus. Who knew what she could have been thinking of?

She doesn't even ask. She just leans forward and wraps her arms securely around Quinn. She joins her fingers together around Quinn's tiny waist and her grip tightens. She isn't going to let go again.

Quinn doesn't even fight back. Doesn't even have the energy _to _fight back. She just stands there, surrounded by Rachel's warmth. A quiet, almost contented sigh escapes her lips as she allows herself to be held. It's the safest she's felt probably in her whole life. Safer than when she was with Puck that time.

Rachel's heart is soaring as she holds Quinn to her tightly. It's worth it. These few moments where everything feels normal again are perfect.

"I think you should stay over tonight," she whispers in Quinn's ear.

She feels Quinn tense in her arms as she tries to pull away. But Rachel doesn't let her go. Instead her hold tightens. "Nothing's going to happen," she continues. "I just don't want you to be alone tonight."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Quinn tells her in return. "I'm a little drunk, Rachel. I can't imagine what would happen if…" she allows the idea to trail off as she bites her lip. She can't say it aloud.

Rachel soothingly strokes up and down the Quinn's back, trying to calm her obviously rattled nerves. "We don't have to do that."

"But…" she looks away at a nearby wall. "But I'm going to want to," she admits shamefully.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to—"

"Yes there is."

Rachel doesn't argue. She knows that it'll get her nowhere. She sighs quietly. "Quinn," she whispers, trying to make eye contact. "Quinn, look at me."

Her eyes reluctantly find Rachel's own. She gets lost in them every time and it bothers her. She sees so much love, compassion, devotion. And it's all directed towards her. It's _always _directed towards her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Rachel murmurs, her breath fanning across Quinn's face because of their close proximity. "I promise that nothing will happen. All I'm asking is that you come home with me because I don't want you to be home alone."

Quinn's jaw clenches. "But Puck can—"

"I'm almost positive that Noah is taking a girl home after this party."

She'd like to argue back that if she asked, Puck would drop whatever girl is down stairs, hanging on his arm to take care of her tonight. But she's too tired. Rachel wore her out, broke her down. Yet, it doesn't feel nearly as bad as being broken down at her boarding school.

She nods her consent slightly. If Rachel hadn't have been paying rapt attention to her every movement, she would have missed it.

Rachel smiles disarmingly as she slowly pulls back; giving Quinn what is probably much needed and long overdue space. Quinn looks at her for a moment before turning around without saying anything, glancing at her watch.

"I thought you wouldn't leave," Rachel calls to her once she makes it to the door. Confusion and a hint of worry and hurt in her tone.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Quinn replies gruffly. "I'm going to clean up. Then going down stairs. We have to be here for another half hour and I would prefer to not smell like sex."

Rachel nods. Quinn does have a point. She's sure, even without a mirror that she looks like she had just been thoroughly fucked.

"I'll meet you outside the club in about thirty minutes," Quinn tells her before slipping out of the door. She practically runs to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her quickly. She walks to the sink and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her pupils are blown and her lips are swollen. Her hair is wild, all over the place and her dress is bunched together messily at the bottom. She straightens her clothes first before moving her hands to her hair smoothing it out.

A smell catches her nostrils and holds them hostage. It smells so familiar and tickles her memories. It's on her right hand. She brings her hand up to her face for closer inspection and her nostrils flare. It's Rachel. She can still smell her on her hand. She resists the urge to lick her fingers and instead licks her lips as she hurriedly places her hand under warm water. She quickly rinses her hand, scared and nervous. What does this all mean? Is she gay? _Again_? She had put so much time and effort into putting that part of her life behind her for good. And now, Rachel has completely unraveled her. Being with Rachel, _in _Rachel was the single best experience she's ever had and she wants more. She's missed it. She needs more and it's so damn scary. If she stays over Rachel's tonight—

She doesn't even want to finish that thought.

Once she finishes washing her hands, she briefly checks her reflection in the mirror. Finally presentable, she walks back out and towards the bar. As soon as she makes it to the stool she orders a drink.

"I want the strongest thing you have," she tells the bartender as she surveys her surroundings. She feels exposed, on edge. Puck approaches her from her right and she turns back to the bartender. "Make that two shots of the strongest thing you have."

A girl enters Puck's path right before he reaches Quinn and starts talking to him while handing him a piece of paper. It's probably her number. Quinn uses the opportunity to drink both shots she receives from the bartender. "Thanks."

"I saw that," Puck tells her in a disappointed voice, suddenly standing directly in front of her. He eyes her curiously. "Have you been crying?"

"No." She wonders how he even knows that because she made sure to wash her face of any dried tears.

He sits next to her. "Yes you have. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Q, we're best friends."

"I know that," she whispers quietly. She really does cherish their friendship.

He looks around, not seeing a certain short brunette in sight. "Is this about Rachel?"

At the mention of her, Quinn cringes a little…and orders another shot. "No."

"You're lying."

"Of course I'm lying," she snaps, not liking the fact that Rachel has the power to bother her so greatly. Her speech slurs slightly but that doesn't stop her from downing the shot in her hand.

Puck takes the glass cup and slams it on the bar counter. "That's enough for the night," he tells her sternly. "You need to deal with your problems without alcohol."

A scathing remark is on the tip of her tongue and in her drunken haze, it's hard to ignore being impulsive. But she does. She doesn't say anything and she doesn't order another drink.

Instead, she watches Puck closely, trying her best to figure out how someone as good lucking as Puck does nothing for her sexually. And although she's had sex with him, she can't say that it was enjoyable. Not that Puck wasn't accommodating, not that he wasn't an attentive lover. He was good. Better than her ex-husband. And very gentle. But his touch didn't set her body on fire, make her ache. Not like Rachel's did. Simply being inside of her made _her _come without Rachel even touching her. Her smell, her taste, the sight of her, the feel of her, the noises she made, all of it overloaded Quinn's senses immensely and sent her eyes rolling back, her back arching, made heat flood between her legs. And the worst part about it is that Quinn can't deny it anymore.

Still, fear is a powerful thing.

"If I asked you to take me home right now, would you be a great friend and get me out of here?"

Puck's smile is all the answer she needs. 

* * *

><p>Rachel stands outside the club, shivering. It isn't particularly cold, but it's unusually breezy, something the weatherman hadn't called for in the day's forecast.<p>

She's worried. Worried that Quinn cancelled on her because she promised to meet her in thirty minutes and it's been forty-five. She sighs.

What she and Quinn did was awe-inspiring. It was everything she's been lacking in her life for seven years and more and it pained her that Quinn didn't seem to feel the same way. Or didn't want to acknowledge that she felt the same way.

Her eyes scan the sidewalk to the left of her and to the right. No sign of Quinn. She sighs. Again. This is heartbreaking.

"Hey."

She spins around excitedly. Her eyes don't land on Quinn, however. They land on Tina.

"Oh. Hey," she says, trying and failing to sound at least somewhat cheerful.

Tina walks forward with her brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rachel says quietly. "Just getting my hopes up for nothing."

Tina nods, not wanting to push the issue. "So listen. A new coffee shop opened up down the street from my apartment and I was wondering if you—"

"I'm ready to go now."

Quinn's voice, made husky and throaty with exhaustion, reaches Rachel's attentive ears and she shivers. This time from a different kind of chills. "Unless you've found someone else to take home."

She turns around to find Quinn standing directly behind her, cold eyes trained on Tina. "Of course not." A beat passes. "You look tired," Rachel comments, trying to distract her from doing something stupid. She's so relieved to see Quinn right now she doesn't know what to do.

Quinn looks down at Rachel's pleading eyes. She sighs as she looks away, knowing what she's asking. "I'll be in the car." She tosses Tina a glare before walking to the curb, toward the same car they arrived in, crawling into the back seat.

Rachel watches her until the car door closes then refocuses on Tina. "Tina, I'm sor—"

"It's okay," she says quickly, only now noticing the purpling bruises on Rachel's neck. "Someone got here first."

"That someone's always been here," Rachel replies wryly.

She hears Tina swallow audibly. "So…this is it…?"

"Yeah," she whispers. "This is it."

Dark hair moves back and forth as Tina nods her head in understanding. She and Rachel share awkward goodbyes before she walks away.

Rachel inhales deeply before deflating. It was true that Tina had potential, but she's no Quinn. _Nobody _is Quinn. Speaking of…

She practically skips elatedly to the car. She slides in the backseat beside the object of her affection and Quinn instantly rests her head against Rachel's shoulder. "I'm sleepy."

"And drunk," Rachel comments lightly, deliriously happy. "We should be back home soon."

Quinn mimics the word 'home'. The concept seems so foreign. She hasn't had a home in so long that she almost forgot what the word meant. "I like home," she says quietly.

Rachel strokes her hair idly as they ride back to her place. Once there, she helps a slightly stumbling Quinn out of the car, onto the elevator, and into her apartment.

"Home," Quinn calls into the still living room. Rachel smiles at that. "We're here," she agrees.

She leads Quinn to her room and takes out clothes for her to wear. Quinn sits on Rachel's bed, at ease for the first time in a long time. She had initially planned to ride with Puck and his driver back to her house for the night, but something told her not to. Instinct? Destiny? Her heart? She doesn't like to believe in childish things such as that, but _something _led her to Rachel's house and she wasn't going to complain.

"Come on, Quinn," Rachel tells her once she makes it to the bed. "Let's change your clothes."

Quinn is in her own, slightly drunken world while Rachel is talking. But when she feels small hands unzip her dress she jerks away on impulse. And she really shouldn't have. Rachel looks completely hurt, although she tries to hide it.

"I already told you nothing was going to happen tonight," she says dejectedly.

Quinn gently takes the clothes from her before standing up. "I trust you," she whispers sincerely. "But I can do this on my own. And I don't want to be tempted to…" Her brow furrows. "Just let me do this."

She doesn't give Rachel a chance to respond before walking out of the room. "Which way is your bathroom?"

"On your right," Rachel calls back to her. The knowledge of having Quinn's trust makes her smile a bit. Maybe it's the alcohol that Quinn had consumed, but she's being surprisingly easy going. Rachel doesn't know what to expect in the morning. But she doesn't want to rush to the next day. She has Quinn in her house _now_, and that's all that matters.

Quinn closes the door to the bathroom and locks it. She exhales shakily as she begins to remove her dress. That was scary. Drunk or not, she's still aware enough to know that Rachel _really _doesn't need to see her tattoo.

She puts on the t-shirt and loose shorts that were handed to her before checking her reflection in the mirror. Her pupils are still dilated and they probably will continue to be until morning. She takes calming breaths, telling herself that the only thing she's going to do is go to sleep. Just because she's gay doesn't mean she can just jump Rachel whenever she feels like it. She still needs to control those urges. They're still wrong. At least, she thinks they're still wrong.

Mindset straight, literally, she walks back into Rachel's room. The sight of her causes Quinn's thoughts to become…not so straight. Rachel's in her bed, the covers draped over half her body, the other half adorned in a black camisole. Quinn swallows thickly. Rachel isn't wearing a bra. It's a bit cold in her room and she _really _isn't wearing a bra.

"Should I just go sleep in a guest room?" Quinn questions, eyes firmly locked on Rachel's and nothing else on the tight body in front of her.

Rachel shakes her head. "Quinn, I thought I made it clear that I didn't want you to be alone tonight."

"Surely you don't want me to sleep in the same bed as you."

"Quinn—"

"No."

Rachel sighs. She's managed to finagle Quinn into sleeping _at _her house, but there's probably no way she can get her to sleep _in _her bed.

"I told you nothing would happen."

"And I said that I trusted you," Quinn grits out, hackles beginning to rise. "I didn't say anything about trusting myself."

It's silent then. Tension hanging thickly in the air at Quinn's confession. This was the second or third time tonight, not counting during sex that Quinn's admitted to wanting her. Rachel's not sure if it's the alcohol talking or she's finally starting to get through to her. She suspected it was a little of both. But mostly the alcohol.

"Alright," she says slowly. She can tell Quinn is getting a little upset. "I can put you in the guest room if you'd feel more comfortable."

When Quinn nods Rachel slips out of bed. She's unapologetically only wearing a black camisole and a pair of black boy shorts.

Quinn's eyes immediately fly to the black scrap of clothing covering Rachel's womanhood. That's where she was earlier. She licks her lips. "Which way is the room?" she questions brusquely. She needs to get the hell out of there.

Rachel offers a smile that's a mixture between empathetic and devilish before brushing past Quinn. "Follow me."

They reach the room that's just down the hall and enter. "I apologize. It's not as cozy and inviting as my room is. I don't have many guests over."

"Don't be sorry," Quinn says softly as she looks the room over. "All I need is a bed at the moment. I don't need to be cozy."

She wastes no time before folding back the sheets and lying down on the bed. Just as she reaches for the covers, Rachel gently takes them from her grasp. "Allow me," she says softly before draping the blanket over Quinn's body, tucking it under her chin.

"I'm not a baby," Quinn grumbles through a yawn. Suddenly with a bed involved, she's ten times more tired.

Rachel smiles. "Must you always be so combative?"

Quinn turns over onto her side, facing Rachel. "It's my thing."

She tells Quinn goodnight before turning to leave. Quinn's hand grabs her own and she spins around to look at droopy eyes. "You aren't asleep yet?" she jokes.

"I want you to be honest with me," Quinn whispers with a sudden seriousness.

Rachel locks eyes with hazel ones at the tone of voice used and she nods her head as she watches Quinn struggle to gather her drunken thoughts.

Quinn's brows furrow as she tries her best to think of how to put this delicately. Finally, she settles on, "Did you sleep with her or not?"

The tension in Rachel's body deflates. She doesn't know what she was expecting Quinn to say, but it hadn't been that. She shakes her head, lips ticking up slightly. "No, I did not."

"Good."

After telling her goodnight for a second time, Rachel walks out of Quinn's room and to her own. She lies down on the bed and turns her lamp off. Lying there, she thinks of everything that's happened. It's two in the morning and although tired, she's also a little wound up. She keeps picturing the look on Quinn's face as she took her, claimed her. Her eyes squeeze shut. She can still feel Quinn's delicate hands on her skin, her mouth on her neck, bruising, marking. Quinn's hand between her thighs…

She clenches her thighs together as she turns on her side. Normally she would have been more than willing to handle her little situation, but Quinn's here. The cause of her arousal is in her house and that makes things a little awkward. Which could end up being even more awkward if Quinn for some unknown reason walked in on her.

Rachel closes her eyes tightly, willing sleep to come. She has a feeling she'll need it because who knows which side of Quinn she'll be met with tomorrow.

At eight in the morning Rachel's alarm buzzes, informing her that she needs to get up. She had hit the snooze multiple times, deciding to forego her early morning elliptical routine. Groggily, she reaches across her night stand until she finds it and clicks a nearby button, silencing it.

She sits up, instantly remembering that Quinn is in her house. Like a kid on Christmas morning, she races out of bed. She throws on some shorts before flying to the bathroom to clean up. Once she had done her daily ritual, she walked into Quinn's room to find her still sleeping.

Rachel quietly walks over to the bed and gingerly sits down. She takes in the long, luxurious hair splayed across the pillow, Quinn's pale arm haphazardly thrown across her face, instinctually protecting herself. Something she had always did. Her gaze travels to the long, beautiful expanse of Quinn's slightly bared throat, her head tossed to the right and away from Rachel. Looking lower, Rachel looks at Quinn's chest heave up and down with every breath. Much like her, Quinn isn't wearing a bra either. And from the looks of things…she appears to be cold.

Rachel giggles quietly, eyes still on Quinn as she grabs the blanket bunched below her hips and prepares to drape it across her. Or at least she _was _planning to. Until she catches sight of something. She releases the blanket and places her hands on either side of Quinn's hips as she leans down for a closer look.

Quinn has a tattoo.

Quinn. Has a _tattoo._

And it wasn't just _any _tattoo, it was _the _tattoo.

Rachel's eyes widen as she recalls a conversation she and Quinn had that started it all years ago.

"_I'm gonna get it," Quinn says, laughing at the look of disbelief on Rachel's face._

_Rachel instantly tackles the girl. The momentum causes them both to fly backwards, but land safely on Rachel's bed._

"_No, you're not," she practically growls. "What will your parents say?"_

_Quinn continues to smile her smug, shit eating grin up at Rachel. Ruffling her girlfriend's feathers was so much fun for her. Especially because it never took much._

_She holds a finger to her chin, pretending to think it through. "I'll just get it when I move out for college or something," she says to placate the girl. "But I _will _get it."_

_Momentarily pacified, Rachel allows herself to indulge. "Where are you going to get it?" she asks coyly._

_Quinn smirks at her as she slowly runs a single finger down her body. "Right here," she tells her, circling a patch of skin on her left hip._

_Rachel stares at the patch of skin longingly. "That's so fucking hot," she breathes._

_Quirking an eyebrow at the rare curse word slipping from her girlfriend's lips, Quinn replies. "It's going to be hot. It's going to be your star. And it's going to be for you because you're my star."_

"_My number one fan," Rachel tells her before leaning down for a heated kiss. She pulls back and looks at Quinn adoringly. "I should get one."_

_Now both of Quinn's eyebrows are up to her hairline. "Yeah?"_

"_Mhm." Rachel smirks at her dumbfounded expression. "Maybe a set of pom-poms."_

_They both laugh at that. "I don't think so," Quinn says._

_She pouts cutely. "No? How about 'Go, Quinn! Go!'"_

"_Or 'Come, Quinn! Come!'" the blonde replies with a lecherous grin._

"_No one likes a perv, Miss Fabray," Rachel says haughtily._

"_You weren't saying that ten minutes ago."_

"_Has it been that long?"_

_Quinn shakes her head good naturedly. She doesn't have anyone to blame for Rachel's smart mouth but herself._

_She turns to look at Rachel. "I think you should just get my name."_

_Rachel tilts her head. "Your whole name?"_

_She nods._

"_Someone's possessive," Rachel replies knowingly. She smiles down at Quinn. "Where should it be?" she whispers._

_Quinn bites her lower lip in contemplation, knowing just what affect it had on Rachel. She drags her hand up Rachel's ribs slowly, reveling in the shiver it invokes. "Here," she says, her hand covering a spot just below Rachel's left breast, thumb stroking the underside of it._

"_Quinn Fabray on my rib," she muses. "I like it." She smiles._

"_I love it."_

"_I love you."_

_Quinn smiles. "I love you too, baby."_

Rachel cries as the memory runs strongly through her mind. She gently runs the pad of her thumb across Quinn's tattoo. What had _happened _to them? She's about to press a kiss to it when a hand darts out and grabs her own.

"What the _hell _are you doing?" Quinn growls. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

**A/N: **We're at the halfway mark! Seven chapters edited and posted, seven more to go. I want to thank everyone that takes the time to review! I would love to take the time to respond to each of you individually, but I'm just really busy all the time. Thanks again. :) 

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" Quinn asks her again, voice dangerously low. She woke up to the feeling of someone's touch ghosting over her skin. And although it wasn't necessarily bad, not entirely unpleasant, it was unnerving. Especially because of where the touching was coming from.<p>

Rachel stares at her, wide eyed, eyes glistening with tears. She apparently doesn't have any instinct or sense of self-preservation because she doesn't move from her spot, her hand still on the tattoo.

"Y-you have a tattoo," she stammers. "And…a scar."

Now Quinn's the one left wide eyed and stammering. She had forgotten about the scar. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel nervously licks at her lips, using her other hand to wipe away at the tears on her face. This seems like forbidden territory. "But I'm looking right at it." She risks breaking eye contact with Quinn to look at the gold star and the crescent shaped scar right beside it. It isn't discolored and you have to squint to see it, you have to _touch _it to know it's there. Which is what Rachel unwittingly did.

"Where did it come from?" Rachel asks in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.

Quinn stares at her for a long moment. A million suitable answers flow through her mind. But she settles on, "None of your business." She roughly yanks back the covers, Rachel's hand falling limply from her body in the process. She stands up then, wanting to be in a less susceptible position. "Do you make it habit of molesting whatever guests that you actually _do _have over?"

Rachel stands up with her then, a couple of inches shy of her height. "Don't do this," she tells her. "Just because you're feeling vulnerable right now does not mean you have to lash out."

"What are you, my shrink?" she instantly counters. "Don't patronize me and don't presume to know me."

"I _do _know you. That's what scares you most of all."

Quinn's face turns to stone as she stares Rachel down. "Don't touch me again," she says gravely. "If you wanted someone that you could feel up whenever you felt like then maybe you should have brought Tina home instead—"

"That's enough!" Rachel shouts, instantly angry. That was too far. "I admit that maybe I shouldn't have touched you, but you will _not _stand here and act as if I took advantage of you in your sleep. This is my house, Quinn. You may feel as if you have the right to treat me like shit everywhere else, but you are not going to do it here."

Rachel's shoulders are pulled tight, lifting up before pulling down with every deep breath she takes. She stares into Quinn's eyes defiantly, daring her to utter another word. When she doesn't say anything Rachel steps forward, pushing past her as she walks out of the room.

Quinn stands there for a few short minutes. She replays what just happened because it really did seem to go by fast. She's only been awake for all of five minutes and she's already pissed Rachel off.

Guilt creeps into her awareness. It takes a lot to make Rachel angry, even more to make her angry with Quinn of all people. Whenever Rachel's anger was directed at Quinn when they were younger, Quinn always felt incredibly guilty because it meant that she must have really pushed all the wrong buttons.

She walks out of the room, no sign of Rachel anywhere. Almost afraid to find her and talk to her, Quinn rummages through closets for towels and spare toothbrushes, re-finds the bathroom, and takes a shower. Her hand skims over her scar that Rachel was referring to by accident and she lingers. The day she acquired the scar was a…rough day to say the least. It was years ago and to this day, she tries very hard not to think about it.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes that thought away and focuses on the matter at hand. Rachel knows about the tattoo. It's essentially all over now. Rachel won't let this go and Quinn can no longer lie about anything. It's all her fault. It's all Rachel's fault. Why did she even have to disrupt everything? Quinn was perfectly fine with doing her job for five years then having Rachel leave to sign with whatever other company she wanted.

Sighing heavily, she shuts off the water and gets out of the shower. She had just woken up and she's already tired again. Drying off and slipping on a towel, she only now notices that she has absolutely nothing to wear. Well, shit.

She walks out of the bathroom and looks around again. Still no sight of Rachel. Quinn stands there awkwardly. It's freezing in Rachel's apartment and she's starting to get cold. Giving up on ever seeing the girl, she walks around the back portion of the apartment until she stumbles upon Rachel's room. She needs clothes. It may be an invasion of privacy. She may be a hypocrite by yelling in Rachel's face about being violated then turning around and delving into her personal drawers like a deviant, but she needs clothes.

Kneeling in front of Rachel's dresser, Quinn opens the first drawer her hand lands on. It's a lingerie drawer. Of course. She bites her lip, telling herself to close the drawer but she can't look away. Her eyes land on a black thong as her mind wanders.

"Can I help you with something?"

Quinn at least has the decency to blush as she quickly removes her hands and looks toward Rachel, who has a shoulder resting against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. And although Quinn thinks she's in trouble, although she's not even supposed to, she can't help but think Rachel looks hot. Especially with the messy dark ponytail atop her head. "I was looking for something to wear," she says slowly. "I don't have any more clothes."

Rachel stares at Quinn's fading blush. It was always hard to stay mad at her. But, she can't just allow Quinn to walk all over her. "Do you need bra and panties as well?"

She blushes again in embarrassment and nods.

Walking over to where Quinn is, Rachel bends down to get a matching set. "You haven't jumped a cup size in the last seven years have you?" she jokes.

Quinn shakes her head. "We're still relatively the same."

Rachel hands her the black lingerie set and stands up. "As far as clothes go, I'm not sure I have much of anything that can fit your taller frame." She walks over to her other drawers. "Except maybe a pair of sweats."

"That's great." Quinn stands as well. She fingers the satin material in her grasp longingly.

Rachel watches her closely from a nearby mirror, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she reaches into her drawer for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

"Here you go." She walks back over to Quinn and hands the clothes to her. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." As she begins to walk away, Quinn grasps her hand loosely. Rachel spins around quickly, almost expecting it. It's becoming a habit.

Quinn hesitates, bites her bottom lip in contemplation and Rachel stares hard at it.

Quinn thinks back to the previous night and her conversation with Puck about how she treated Rachel like shit. Then she thinks about how she tried to find Rachel so she could apologize and…shit. Shit. _Shit. _She and Rachel had sex.

She pulls back suddenly. "I just wanted to apologize," she whispers. "I, uh…I need to change."

Without saying another awkward word, she walks out of Rachel's room and into the bathroom. Rachel, for her part, is completely dumfounded. Quinn is a mind trip to say the least. If she wasn't so in love with her, she wouldn't put up with most of the stuff she has to endure.

She walks out of her room and into the kitchen to continue preparing breakfast.

Closing the door yet again, Quinn goes about changing her clothes. Her mind keeps wandering, travelling back to the sensation of being in Rachel, hearing her moan, feeling the girl claw at her back. She shakes her head. It was a heady feeling indeed. And although she woke up being a complete bitch, she's not too blind to not notice the languid pace at which she's dressing. Almost as if…as if she's not in a rush to leave Rachel's apartment. As if she _doesn't _want to leave Rachel's apartment. That couldn't be true…could it?

Just for safe measure, she quickly puts the rest of her clothes on before swinging the bathroom door open and walking out. Walking back to the room she spent the night in, she sees her dress hung on a hanger in a bag with her shoes. She smiles a little. Rachel always took care of her. She grabs her things and swiftly walks to the front of the apartment, fully prepared to find the exit.

She makes the mistake of turning her head to the right as she passes by the kitchen. Rachel's standing at the stove, flipping what appeared to be the last pancake. Nostalgia hits her hard as she slows down to a halt. She used to spend so much time at the Berry residence when she was younger that she'd seen Rachel cook numerous times. It was something so calming about seeing Rachel be so domestic. She watches raptly, unaware of the smile that appears on her lips.

"If you have enough time, maybe you can sit down to eat," Rachel calls to her. Rachel was always aware of when she and Quinn were in the same room. "I still do not think that your weight is adequate enough for your height."

Quinn frowns but acquiesces. Rachel is clearly the one in charge here and her stomach does feel a little empty.

She places her clothes on a nearby chair and takes wary steps into the kitchen. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Rachel turns to her with a smile. "You can pour us both a glass of juice." She's happy again. Quinn is staying longer than expected. And whatever stick she had up her ass is gone.

Quinn nods as she reaches into a nearby cabinet for two glasses before walking to the refrigerator and opening it. A tupperware container with a red top catches her attention. It's leftover lasagna. Vegan, if Quinn still knows Rachel like she thinks she does. She almost wants to laugh at that. Rachel loved her lasagna.

She pours them two glasses of apple juice and sits down just as Rachel brings two plates of pancakes, bacon, and toast. "I put syrup on your bacon for you," she tells Quinn.

"Thanks." Quinn doesn't want to seem eager, so she tries to eat slowly. But she's always loved Rachel's cooking. She was really good at it considering she had to learn early. One of her fathers was a chef and taught Rachel how to work a spatula by the time she was six.

"Does your father still cook?" Quinn asks as she takes a sip of her juice, genuinely curious.

Rachel nods enthusiastically. "Daddy still has his own restaurant downtown. It's even more popular now than when it was when we were younger."

Quinn makes a sound of acknowledgment and continues eating. This feels weird. She never expected to find herself in Rachel Berry's dining room, making small talk. And actually sort of…liking it. For once she doesn't feel scared or anxious. She feels at peace, at home. And the feeling warmed her greatly.

"Can I see it again?"

Rachel asks the question slowly, quietly so as to not startle her. Quinn lifts her head, eyes locking to Rachel's. She reads her carefully, calculating what her next move should be. She can blow up in Rachel's face again, but that would only serve to hurt the girl's feelings, make her angry again, and possibly make her cry.

"Which one?" she asks with trepidation.

Rachel tries to calm herself. The fact that Quinn is _finally _opening up is exciting. But if she doesn't get a hold of herself, she'll send the girl retreating yet again.

"Your scar," she murmurs, like it's a secret. And really, Quinn would have liked for it to be.

She nods, one of those small nods that only Rachel would be able to notice because the girl pays a lot of attention to her. Rachel slides out of her seat and moves forward. Quinn's body goes stiff as Rachel approaches. "It's alright," she whispers.

"No, it's not." Quinn's not really sure why she's doing this. But she doesn't have the fight in her anymore. She takes a shaky breath as Rachel kneels before her. "We slept together," she blurts out suddenly. That wasn't supposed to come out of her mouth.

Rachel's lips quirk up slightly. "We did," she agrees quietly. She looks up at Quinn. "But I don't regret it." She would have asked if Quinn felt the same way, but she's afraid of the answer.

Rachel breaks eye contact as she gently grabs the hem of Quinn's shirt and slowly lifts it up. Her other hand grabs the waistband of the girl's sweat pants and pulls them down only slightly. Quinn's hand flies to the one on her sweat pants and Rachel looks up at her again.

She pauses all movement as she looks directly into hazel eyes. "I'm not going to do anything," she murmurs. "I just want to see it. Trust me."

Quinn continues to stare at Rachel, her expression unreadable. Her eyes narrow slightly as she tries to figure out just what Rachel wants. Finally she just has to ask. "What do you want from me?"

Rachel's heart snaps at the pained and defeated tone of Quinn's voice. She reaches for her hand and holds it in what she hopes is a reassuring manner. "I love you, Quinn. All I want to _do_ is love you," she tells her gently but unfalteringly.

Quinn's bottom lip trembles as she slowly releases Rachel's hand. She doesn't say anything else and Rachel returns her attention to the scar. She leans in closely, noticing the blonde's increase in breathing. Rachel can tell she's anxious so she continues to move slowly. "How did this happen?"

Her thumb brushes over it again just it had earlier and Quinn's jaw clenches. She doesn't know whether to find the touch painful or beautiful. "Belt buckle," she grits out.

There's an audible gasp that pushes past Rachel's lips as she wrenches her hand back. As if the scar still hurt after all this time.

She hesitantly reaches out again and Quinn's hands find the sides of her chair, gripping it. It's takes all of her will power to not lash out at Rachel's hand, flip her chair back and run away. She presses her lips into a hard line. If she opens her mouth then a scathing comment is sure to fire from her lips in a moment of vulnerability. Rachel places the flat of her palm on Quinn's bare stomach. This was a technique she tried during their first time together because although eager, Quinn was very nervous. And Rachel's touch had instantly relaxed her. She's hoping it works now.

Quinn's trembling form gradually stills as the warmth of Rachel's touch seeps under her skin and to her bones. Her jaw unclenches and her shoulders droop. However, her fingers still grip onto the chair because she still has the small urge to just push Rachel away.

Rachel waits patiently for her to calm, ever attentive to every movement, every twitch of her body. "Did they do this?" she whispers once Quinn's calmed down, referring to the women at Quinn's boarding school.

Quinn nods her head. She remembers the pain of the blow, how she pitched forward on impact, falling to the floor while clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. Ruth did it. A woman named Beth watched. She feels moisture gathering in her eyes and doesn't even wipe the tear that falls. She has a feeling it was going to be the first of many.

Rachel doesn't wipe it away, either. She watches as it falls down Quinn's face, suspecting that this is probably one of the very few times Quinn's actually taking the time to cry about the things that have happened to her. "You can talk about it," she murmurs.

Quinn looks at her helplessly, her head tilted to the side. Her shaky lips part and she pushes a breath past her lips. "It hurt," she whispers. And Rachel's heart breaks a little more as she scoots forward and envelops her arms around Quinn's waist.

Quinn's only response is to cry harder. She gently lifts herself from her seat and kneels down on the ground, level with Rachel. She looks at Rachel then, and Rachel grabs her hand and gives it a slight tug. Quinn practically topples forward into waiting arms, burying her face into Rachel's neck as she sobs quietly. "No one cared about me."

"I cared about you," Rachel tells her instantly. She'd never told anyone, but she felt incredibly guilty after Quinn had left. She felt as if she should have tried everything to get Quinn to stay with her. But she let her go. She didn't ask any questions. Just sat there and cried as she watched Quinn walk away from her life. "I still care about you. I always will."

Quinn nods her head, finally absorbing everything Rachel has to offer. She grips Rachel tighter as she continues to cry, cleansing herself of every thought and belief that the boarding school put in her system.

Stroking her hair softly, Rachel swallows nervously before speaking. "Can I ask about your tattoo?"

Quinn tenses in her arms for a moment and Rachel panics. She's about to take her words back when Quinn replies. "I guess."

"When did you get it?"

"About a year ago." She exhales loudly, shoulders slumping forward. "I was drunk…and it seemed like a good idea."

Rachel hums in understanding as she continues to stroke Quinn's hair. "_Why_ did you get it?"

"I already told you I was drunk."

Rachel shakes her head. "That's not why, Quinn," she says gently. "Tell me why."

"You know why," Quinn answers sternly. "You can't possibly _not _know why I got this tattoo." She pauses for a moment, hesitating. Self-preservation is beginning to kick in and she figures she can still save herself. But there's something about being wrapped up in Rachel's warmth, her love that makes her want to stay, gives her strength she's never known. Her hesitation is short lived. "I got it for you," she mumbles. "It's yours."

"You're mine," Rachel tells her in return. "And no one is going to take you away from me again."

The words sound so reassuring to Quinn that her rigid body melts into Rachel's own. They sit there, Rachel content to hold Quinn and Quinn being the most content and at peace she's ever been. She was listening to Rachel's even breathing when Rachel whispers into her ear. "You weren't the only one that felt the need to get a tattoo."

Her breath hitches at the heavy implications of those words. It can't be…

"What do you mean?" she asks Rachel as she pulls back to look her in the eye.

Rachel just smiles enigmatically at her, her fingers reaching for the hem of her camisole. She lifts it up until the material is bunched just under her breasts. And Quinn leans down slightly, squinting her eyes. She sees it.

_Quinn Fabray_

And it's beautiful. That's the only way she can describe. Rachel's name is whimpered from her lips as she reaches a trembling hand out. Her index finger extends to trace the words written, her name, engraved into smooth tan skin forever and she feels as if she's going to cry again.

Rachel's body trembles as Quinn touches her. Her touch is a far cry from what it was just last night. It's gentle, curious. The way Quinn's touch used to be. Her body has yearned for this contact for years and she's finally getting it. However, she knows that now is not the time for the things her body is asking for. "You would have seen it last night," she whispers. "Had you not been in such a…frenzy." She releases her shirt, letting it fall back into place as she leans forward and cups Quinn's cheeks. She wipes the remainder of tears that are left on her face as she looks into crystal clear hazel eyes.

She feels so many emotions. Sadness at how Quinn's life turned out, anger at the people that did this to her. But most importantly and strongest of all, she feels love for the woman in front of her and the sixteen year old girl she once knew. So much love that seems to have done nothing but strengthened with time. And looking into Quinn's unguarded eyes, she sees it clearly reflected.

"If you ever allow anyone to break you again, please let it be me," she tells her. "Because I promise you, I _swear_, I'll put you back together stronger."

She leans forward then and presses her lips to Quinn's forehead in a chaste kiss. Quinn's eyes slip shut at the warm touch of Rachel's lips to her skin and she sighs softly. She reaches for her desperately and crushes their bodies together, molding them into one. She trusts Rachel. If anyone can make her whole again, it would be the one person she ever loved. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

* * *

><p>"You look happy."<p>

The words are said by Puck as he walks into Quinn's office with a projector. Kurt follows swiftly behind with a laptop held carefully in one hand while he sweeps his bangs to the side with the other.

Quinn pulls away from her computer. She was on Myspace, Facebook, and Twitter looking for the next big talent. That's what she and Puck sometimes do when they're not busy in the recording studio with an artist or trying to seal a deal. They even scour night clubs at times, hoping to pick up a talent that's unsigned. Puck considers it easy working, but that's only because when he slacks off, Quinn picks up the slack.

She doesn't answer him verbally, but the small smile on her face is all he needs. He and Kurt walk further into the room and set up the projector.

When Kurt leaves the room, Quinn and Puck sit at the large business table in her office. Puck types a url into the laptop and Myspace pops up onto the screen. "Are you sure we're going to find talent here?" he asks skeptically.

"It's not guaranteed," Quinn tells him. "But this is how Rachel was discovered. And I think we both agree that she's a rare talent."

Puck smirks. "You're just saying that because you wanna bang her."

Quinn says nothing as she looks forward.

But she doesn't have to say anything. Puck can read her well. "Did you fuck her?" he asks, trying to sound scandalized. "_Already_? Quinn Fabray, you dog."

"Keep your damn voice down. Do you want Sylvester to hear?" she hisses. "I was drunk, alright?"

Puck nods at that, understanding that anyone finding out about what happened between Quinn and Rachel could mean termination of contracts and firing of employees. Mixing business with pleasure usually ended badly. Very badly. He used to joke about taking Rachel out back when he didn't know who the new artist would be. But they were just that. Jokes. He's not _that _stupid. He turns back to the screen and picks the first male artist they see. Everyone on staff agreed, especially Kurt, that more testosterone was needed on the label.

"Did you like it?" he asks, not really listening to the singer on screen.

Quinn isn't listening, either. Now that Puck has mentioned sex with Rachel, she's having a hard time thinking of much else. "I guess."

"So…you're gay?" Not that he needed confirmation. He already knows. He just wants to make sure Quinn knows.

She rolls her eyes. "Can we just focus on the guy that's singing?"

Quinn acknowledges the fact that she's gay. But she's still uncomfortable with it. Because it's still wrong, isn't it? Just because a thief acknowledges that he steals doesn't make the act of stealing right. For her, that's how it is about being gay. Just because she has no choice but to _be _gay, doesn't in any way shape or form make it right.

Puck leaves her alone then, choosing to focus on their job. "He sucks though. Look at that hot chick to the right. I bet she can hit all kinds of notes. Let's click on her."

"We're looking for a guy, early twenties, that can fit the bad boy mold," Quinn tells him for what feels like the hundredth time. "Rachel is a great artist, but statistically speaking, men don't, well…fangirl. If we sign a good looking guy then teenage girls will swarm him. Thus, creating buzz for him. Which will make his popularity skyrocket, which will in turn mean a lot of album sales. Are you following?"

"No. I'm drooling over this girl. Seriously, Q, are you seeing this ass? Are you even an ass kinda girl?"

She groans as she stands up. "I'm going to the restroom. When I get back, I expect you to not be here."

Puck turns around and watches her retreating form. "Yeah, she was hot. I understand if you have the need to whack one off in the bathroom."

Quinn's heels clack against the bathroom tiles as she walks over to the row of sinks. She braces her hands on the marble as she looks at herself in the mirror. It's time to take stock of her life again. She forgot to do it this morning. Twenty-three, blonde, and a lesbian. Great.

She hangs her head, realizing how much more difficult her life will be from now on. Mondays always sucked. But at least she has nothing to do once she gets off work. No clubs to go to, no parties to attend. She can go home, crawl under her covers and sulk.

Which is what she does.

* * *

><p>Two days later finds Quinn checking her phone for nonexistent emails and text messages. She sighs. Her eyes dart from wall to wall, absorbing her surroundings. She's nervous. She's never done anything like this before. The lobby she's in smells clean. <em>Really <em>clean, like someone just doused the entire room with Clorox. There are magazines about physical and mental health neatly piled onto a table near the chair she's occupying. She eyes them, mildly curious, before she looks elsewhere. She's not _that _curious.

Her hands start to shake a little and she balls them into fists and sits them in her lap. She's the only one in the room and she still feels exposed. The bare four, off-white painted walls stare at her as she stares back. Finally, she hangs her head, taking calming breaths.

The sound of heels clacking at a fast pace reach her ears and she breathes a sigh of what can almost be called relief. She looks up to see a short brunette walking towards her with a big, floppy hat on her head, a pair of aviators over her eyes, and a small smile that's just as relieved as Quinn's sigh was, yet concerned and apologetic. Rachel takes a seat beside her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she tells her quickly. "I got held up at the studio and there was this one note that I kept getting stuck on and I really wanted it to be perfect—"

"It's alright," Quinn tells her, forcing what she hoped was an easy smile. She's used to people not being there for her. "I've only been here for about fifteen minutes."

Rachel stares at her rigid posture, trying to assess whether or not Quinn's alright. It's obvious she isn't. "Are you nervous?" she asks her quietly. "Do you need me to go with you, because I'll go if you need me to."

Warmth, even if it's only a little, seeps into Quinn's heart. Other people weren't there for her, such as her parents. But Rachel seems to be hell bent on proving that she's not like everyone else. She's in a league all her own.

Rachel reaches down to grab Quinn's hand, giving it a squeeze. It's cold. She positions Quinn's hand between both of hers before rubbing them back and forth to create friction in an attempt to warm her. However, she feels Quinn tense beside her and releases it quickly. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Quinn looks up at her. Rachel looks sort of disappointed as she looks away. Hazel eyes then look down to Rachel's hand. Her mouth turns down into a small frown as she tentatively reaches out and places her hand over Rachel's own. Her fingers slip through the empty spaces between tan fingers like a lock and key and she hears an audible gasp from beside her. Pale fingers slowly curl forward to capture Rachel's hand more fully and Quinn takes a shuddering breath, remembering to breathe.

Her boarding school never felt this good.

Rachel turns to look at her then, wonder in her eyes. As if she's amazed. Her face blossoms into the most dazzling smile Quinn's ever had the pleasure of seeing and she can't help but return it. That one smile makes Quinn feel so special. She squeezes Rachel's hand, reassuring her that although she's scared and nervous about what's happening between them, she would try.

The creaking of a door breaks them out of their moment and Quinn quickly drops Rachel's hand as if she's just been caught doing something bad as she looks forward anxiously. Old habits die hard.

A petite woman with red hair steps into the room and her eyes land directly on the two women. "Quinn Fabray?" she asks expectantly.

"Yes, that's me," she says. She looks to Rachel.

"Do you need me to go?" Rachel asks again.

"I probably do," Quinn admits quietly as she takes a stand. "But I think this is something I need to do on my own."

Rachel sits back in her chair, picking up a magazine. "I'll be here when you're done."

"You don't have to, Rachel. If there's something else that you could be doing with your time then you can go do whatever you need to."

She looks up at Quinn. "I'll be here."

Quinn nods slowly before turning around and walking behind the redhead and into her office.

Once inside, the woman turns around to face Quinn. "I'm Emma Pillsbury," she says in a warm voice.

She sticks out her hand. "Quinn Fabray."

Emma eyes her hand with mild concern. She isn't a germaphobe by any means, she's just careful. She reaches forward and shakes Quinn's hand, making a mental note to use hand sanitizer once this session is over. "You can have a seat, Quinn."

Quinn walks over to a brown cushioned chair and sits down. She's nervous again, posture ram rod stiff. "I've never—this is new for me. So…"

Emma smiles gently at her as she grabs a nearby notepad and pen. "What you should know, Quinn, is that I'm not here to push you or beat you up about anything. All I do is listen. You talk to me and I maybe offer a few suggestions. But at the end of the day, you're in charge of where our conversations go. When you say stop, the conversation stops. I also have pamphlets…just in case."

Quinn nods as she breathes in deeply. She really wishes Rachel was here.

Rachel flips through another magazine absentmindedly. She really wishes she was there with Quinn. Her eyes wander around the room as she tries not to worry about her too much. Quinn will be okay.

She allows herself to smile a little because she's here with Quinn. Quinn is opening up her life to her and Rachel is grateful because she knows it's not something easy for Quinn

Quinn was never really the most open and forthcoming person until she got close to people. Rachel recalls the first time Quinn ever told her a secret. She was huffing and puffing as she paced around Rachel's room. She looked to Rachel on the bed, miffed with _her _because _she _was the one that couldn't open up. Rachel merely smiled at her as she turned her attention back to the TV she was watching.

Rachel remembers how Quinn continued to scowl in her direction before throwing her hands up and growling out the word,_ "Fine."_ She then proceeded to tell Rachel how she wet the bed until she was six years old. Rachel then turned to her with a goofy smile on her face before she began to laugh uncontrollably. Quinn stared at her, completely dumbfounded before she, too, began to laugh because she was never able to _not _laugh whenever Rachel started laughing.

Rachel laughs quietly to herself at the memory. Those were simpler times.

Quinn rests her back against the chair as she continues to talk to Emma. "I was really good in school. Stayed on Honor Roll and I was a cheerleader. I had –_have _an older sister. She was always better than me, though. She made daddy proud." She grumbles the last part, not liking that it was true. She always seemed to be overshadowed by her sister.

Emma hums her acknowledgement of what Quinn was saying as she writes on her notepad. She makes a note of how Quinn uses the word 'daddy' instead of 'father', suggesting that in some ways, she's still the little girl that she once was. "What were your parents like?"

"They were…there," she says uneasily. Emma can tell she's hit a rough spot and tries to proceed with caution. "What occupations did they have?"

"My father was a business exec and my mother was a stay at home."

"A business exec," Emma muses. "That's kind of like what you are, correct?"

Quinn nods. It's true that she and her father had similar occupations, but what was also true was that she didn't become immersed in the music business world to impress him or because she looked up to him. There was a different reason why she became involved in the music industry.

"Do you look up to your father?"

Quinn knew something like this was coming. This is the part where she gets uncomfortable. She averts her eyes, preferring to stare at the off-white, squeaky clean walls. "I used to," she mumbles.

Instantly Emma picks up on her discomfort. It's what she was paid to do after all. "You don't look up to him anymore?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Emma nods her head before scribbling onto her notepad. That was a subject they'd have to visit at a later date, when Quinn is ready to talk about it.

"May I ask about the woman that's here with you?" she asks, trying to subject change.

Quinn fidgets a little. That doesn't seem like a good place to go, either. "Her name is Rachel."

This piques Emma's interest a bit. "Is she Rachel as in Rachel Berry? Because she looks just like her."

Quinn rolls her eyes with a small smile. Leave it to Rachel to be so important to take up _her _time with her therapist. "I'll get you an autograph," is all she says.

"Are the two of you close?"

"Something like that," Quinn says uneasily.

Emma nods. "Care to elaborate?"

"No."

She scribbles again. "How long have you known each other?"

"Years," she says with a fond smile. "But we lost touch for a while."

Her trained ears detect the slight change in Quinn's voice. "Did it make you sad when the two of you lost touch?"

"Yeah."

"Are you happy she's back in your life?"

Quinn's eyes lose focus as she reflects on the question. It's been a week since her meltdown in Rachel's kitchen. Rachel suggested to her that therapy would be a very helpful tool and although Quinn was greatly against it, she agreed to give it a shot. Rachel hugged her tightly then and said that she would try her best to make it to every meeting. This is her very first one and where is Rachel? She's right outside the door, patiently waiting for her when Quinn is certain that she could be doing other things, such as catching up on the sleep that she never gets.

She smiles. "The happiest I've ever been."

When she walks out of Emma's office after scheduling an appointment for the same time next week, she feels a little lighter. The world doesn't feel like it's on her shoulders as much. She feels as if she can breathe.

Her eyes land on Rachel and they soften almost immediately. She's asleep; her arms creating a pillow for her to lay on against the armrest of the seat. Quinn walks over to her and shakes her gently.

"It's time to get up, Rach. We're done here." Rachel's nickname falls so effortlessly from her lips that she doesn't even realize that she said it, that she hasn't called her that in seven years.

Rachel realizes. That's sort of what jolts her up. She sits up groggily, blinking her tired eyes as she squints at the light to see Quinn better. "How was it?"

Quinn makes a face. "Not easy." She eyes her critically as Rachel takes a stand. "And you talk about me not taking care of myself," she scolds. "You're exhausted."

"I'm supposed to be tired," she says, half-heartedly defending herself. "Half of my job is to be tired."

"And the other half is to take care of yourself," Quinn insists. She continues to look at Rachel. Rachel hasn't done anything but take of her since she got here and Quinn feels the least she could do is return the favor. "Come on."

She walks off, expecting Rachel to catch up.

Rachel follows swiftly behind, putting her hat and sunglasses on. "Where are we going?"

"You'll know when we get there." 

* * *

><p>Quinn drops her keys onto a small table near her door as she walks into her house. Rachel enters behind her before closing the door. "This is surprising," is all she manages.<p>

Quinn scowls. "Don't make a big deal out of it. You're sleepy and need a bed, not a chair in some psych office. There are also, more than likely, paparazzi at your house so we're not going there."

It's true. During the day paparazzi tended to be near Rachel's house. They aren't terribly invasive...yet. But it's still jarring to see them there, snapping pictures whenever Rachel shows up.

"You can sleep on my bed," Quinn continues. "It has a better mattress than the one in the guest room."

Rachel continues to stand there as Quinn walks away. Whether Quinn wanted her to count this as a big deal or not doesn't matter. It _is _a big deal. It's new, surprising. But thrilling.

She follows Quinn into the back of her house and into her bedroom.

The furniture is Victorian and dark, brooding. Quinn. She gently sits on Quinn's bed as she watches her take off her heels, earrings, necklace, and bracelet at her dresser. Rachel's heart hurts a little because this is a little like how she envisioned their lives together. Her watching Quinn get dressed and undressed before and after a hard day's work.

"Lay down," Quinn murmurs as she watches Rachel watch her. "You aren't going to get any rest by watching me all day."

She doesn't say anything else before walking out of the room and leaving Rachel in there.

Rachel lies on her stomach, burying her face into Quinn's pillow. It smells like her coconut shampoo. Some things never change. She wraps an arm around the pillow before succumbing to sleep.

Quinn busies herself with rummaging through the kitchen. Rachel may be hungry when she wakes up. She walks over to her refrigerator when her phone rings. She sighs heavily before walking over to the counter to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"_You sound annoyed."_

She _is _a little annoyed about being interrupted. But it's Puck. So her annoyance gives way, somewhat. "What, Puck?"

"_I was just calling to ask how your first therapy session went. What's got your ass so tight?"_

"Nothing. Therapy was great," she tells him. She walks into the dining room and takes a seat in one of her chairs. "Rachel's over," she says quietly.

"_Oh, shit." _She can hear the smirk in his voice. _"Quinn Fabray is getting laid tonight!"_

"I am not!" she whispers harshly. "She's sleeping."

"_So, you _already _got laid and put the poor girl in a coma. Even better."_

She literally face palms. Why is she friends with him? "Can you be serious for just one moment?"

"_Ok, fine. What's the problem?"_

"The problem is—well…what am I supposed to do?"

"_Well, what do you want to do?"_

She rubs her forehead. She wants to see Rachel, at least be in the same room with her. Not hide out in her dining room while whispering to Puck about her on the phone because she's afraid. She wants to hold her.

"_Quinn," _Puck says gently, sensing her apprehension. _"Your parents aren't there. Nor are the teachers from your boarding school. And at the risk of sounding pervy…you can do whatever you want with her. It's your house and your life. Start living it."_

She smiles at the sincerity in his voice. "You do sound pervy," she jokes.

"_Yeah, well I am one. Now hang up with me already so you can do naughty things to her that you'll tell me about later."_

"Goodbye."

She laughs as she hangs up the phone. But, her laughter fades as she continues to sit there. What she wants to do with Rachel, she was taught was unnatural. Wrong. But is it really? If touching another woman in such an intimate fashion is so wrong, then why do her fingers fit in between the spaces of Rachel's own so perfectly? As if no one else can fill that void but her.

Quinn doesn't necessarily believe in fate, but she knows a good thing when she sees it. She recognizes how much she needs Rachel and how much Rachel needs her in return. She doesn't need anyone else like that. Not even Puck. And now that Rachel's back in her life, really back in her life, she can't let her go again. She can't run away a second time because who knows if they'll ever find their way back to each other again.

She tip toes back into her room, not wanting to wake Rachel. She was obviously tired. Rachel's sleeping on Quinn's side of the bed, cuddling her pillow so she walks over to the other side of the bed. Gently putting her cell phone onto her night stand, she stands there for a minute, content to watch her sleep.

"Hold me."

Quinn's breath hitches at the request. Rachel's supposed to be asleep. She freezes, unable to move but desperately wanting to. The word 'no' is on the tip of her tongue. Old habits. But she wants to. She really wants to.

"Please."

At that plea she practically leaps onto the bed because she's sick of Rachel having to beg and apologize to her for everything. She scoots up closely behind her, telling herself not to think and just feel. Rachel scoots back instantly, her ass resting snuggly against Quinn's pelvis and she has to close her eyes, feeling every bit like a teenager with crazy hormones.

Her shaky hand hovers over Rachel's hip. Heat emanates from the sliver of skin shown as Rachel's shirt rides up and Quinn's breath is just as shaky as her hand is when she carefully places it on Rachel's hip. She feels more than hears Rachel sigh almost dreamily at the contact before she grabs her hand. Quinn's hand is placed low on Rachel's stomach, her womb. And it feels so intimate to be able to touch one of the most vulnerable parts of her body. She lies against the other pillow on the bed, leaning closer to bury her nose into Rachel's hair, all the while telling herself not to think.

"Thank you," Rachel whispers tiredly.

Quinn's response is to tighten her grip around Rachel. "Go back to sleep," she murmurs.

Within mere minutes Quinn hears the even breathing and light snoring of Rachel. She smiles a little, wondering if her fans know that she snores. She gently pulls dark brown locks back, preferring to bury her face in Rachel's neck. She breathes in deeply. Rachel smells of apples of course. The first time she even realized Rachel smelled so good was the first time they cuddled. They weren't even together then, only best friends. They had both fallen asleep on Rachel's bed and when they woke up, Rachel was in Quinn's arms. Both girls blushed from head to toe but neither of them moved away. In fact, they stayed that way for another twenty minutes. It's when Rachel gently pulled away to start dinner that the smell of apples wafted to Quinn's nostrils, forever being firmly implanted into her memory.

Quinn sighs into Rachel's neck at the memory, feeling her shiver in her sleep at the feeling. It amazes her how Rachel's body responds to her. How _her _body responds to Rachel. No matter how much she tried during their marriage, she couldn't get her body to be as excited or alive for Kenneth's touch as it gets just by holding Rachel. Every inch of her skin is buzzing and her hands are becoming twitchy. She can feel the button of Rachel's jeans under her pinky and she licks her lips. Her heart beats a little faster at the promise of what would come if she undid that button, unzipped those jeans. A soft exhale is pushed past her lips.

She moves her hand a little higher up on Rachel's body and away from temptation. It's too soon for that and she's not sure she can take all of that on at once. She's had sex with Rachel, admitted to being gay, and even allowed the girl back into her life. It's a good thing, but a little overwhelming. Everything else will have to wait. Her heart rate slows as she lies there, telling her body to just sleep for now and her mind to stop thinking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

* * *

><p>Rachel waves to the crowd of people as she walks past them. She smiles apologetically because even though she would love to sign autographs until her hands bled, she has a radio interview to get to. Most of the people crowded around her are tween girls holding posters with proclamations of love. Some are adult women that, Rachel knows from past experience if given the chance, would proclaim a different, more mature and physical love. She smiles and waves politely, but doesn't spare a second glance. They're probably great. But they're no Quinn.<p>

She walks with her body guards and her manager into the elevator once they enter the building. She settles into the back of the elevator because they're riding it to the fourteenth floor and it's going to be a while.

While she has nothing to do she leans back against the far wall of the elevator and thinks of Quinn. She thinks back to the day she spent the night at Quinn's house a week ago. Quinn had apparently been right when she said Rachel was sleepy. When Rachel fell asleep, she didn't wake up until the next day. Quinn-less. But there was a blanket carefully placed over her and a letter in her place. She smiles as she pulls it out of her purse to reread it. She never told Quinn, but she had kept it. It showed what had become a rare side of Quinn, a side that she's working to slowly bring back to the surface.

_Rachel,_

_Sorry that I had to leave but I have to work. You're welcome to sleep for as long as you need to; I know how tired you are. There's breakfast in the kitchen and you can wear any of my clothes in my dresser if you need something to change into. Don't work too hard today. I don't want you tired and drooling on my pillows again._

_Q_

She smiles goofily before putting the note back in her purse, the implication that she's allowed to sleep over at Quinn's house for a second time not lost on her.

"You got it? For real? B, that's amazing, baby!"

Rachel is broken out of her thoughts by Santana's rare excitement and gushing. Santana turns to the her with a wide grin on her face. "She got it!" is all she says.

A broad smile works its way onto Rachel's face as well. "That's really great. Do you know the name of the competition she's participating in?"

"America's Best…something about dancing." Santana's smile turns sheepish as she tries and fails to recall the name of the show that Brittany _just _told her she would be on.

"I'm certain she'll win. She's a phenomenal dancer."

Santana tells her thank you before leaning towards one of her bodyguards. She mutters something in a tone that sounds threatening and Rachel hears the words 'get' and 'coffee'.

The elevator dings and opens, with the bodyguard Santana had been talking to scurrying out and to the left.

Thinking of Quinn again, and always, Rachel reaches into her purse for her phone. She opens up her text messages and sends Quinn one.

_I miss you._

She smiles a smile that's a bit apprehensive and a bit giddy as she walks down the hallway beside Santana.

"How are you and your A&R friend, Berry?" she asks.

"We are…better," she tells her. Her dark eyebrows bunch together as she tries to think of a more eloquent answer. She can't think of one.

"What's this?" Santana mocks playfully. "Is Rachel Berry for once in her life speechless?"

"It would seem so," she agrees.

Santana detects the note of sadness in her voice and turns to her. "What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"

Rachel turns towards her. A look of appreciation crosses her face. Artists and managers didn't really have a habit of getting close in the music industry. Most kept it strictly professional, but sometimes a rare friendship is formed. That's what happened with Rachel and Santana. During the earlier stages of their working relationship Santana sometimes came off as cold and aloof. Bitchy. But over time, she and Rachel had somehow formed a friendship. One that Rachel actually kind of cherishes.

Her cell phone buzzes and she quickly fishes it out of her purse to read the text that's from Quinn.

_Have a good day. Don't work too hard._

She heaves a heavy sigh after reading it and her shoulders slump a little.

"I'm going to ask one more time, Berry." It's true that Santana and Rachel are friends. But it's also true that Rachel somehow manages to get on Santana's nerves more often than not. "What's the problem?"

She hands Santana her phone. "This is the problem. I told her that I miss her and all I got was 'have a good day.'"

Santana resists the urge to laugh at the message. Rachel sure knows how to blow things out of proportion. "So?" she asks, just to further agitate the girl.

"How hard is it for her to reply 'I miss you too'?"

"For a woman that's always been told that being a lesbian was wrong and was even sent to a school full of teachers that told her that nonstop around the clock? I'm pretty sure it's hard."

Rachel's lips turn down. "But she's come so far."

"True," she says with a nod. "But she has even further to go. And it takes encouragement and coaching. She's like a puppy that's spent her entire time pissing in the house. Now you have to grab that puppy's attention with a chew toy and guide it outside so that she can piss all over your grass."

"She would not be happy with you calling her a puppy," Rachel says with a small smile.

Santana smirks at that. "Oh, I know. I've seen her rage on her secretary just because the poor woman forgot her coffee."

Rachel smiles even wider at that as she looks down at her phone, debating.

"I'll go see what's taking so long with my own damn coffee," Santana mutters as she walks away. "Remember to encourage her and give her a little push every now and then. Otherwise, you'll be stuck in limbo."

She briefly watches Santana's retreating form before looking down at her phone again.

_Do you miss me?_

The message is sent before she loses her nerve and she's practically hyperventilating while waiting for a reply. She knows this is hard for Quinn, but it isn't exactly a picnic for her, either. Rachel's not entirely used to waiting and although it makes her sound spoiled, she's not used to not getting her way, either. She'd gladly wait for Quinn for as long as she has to, but that doesn't mean can't prefer to _not _wait.

Her phone buzzes again and she opens it quickly, almost afraid of the possible downfall that could come.

_If I said yes, would it make you happy?_

Rachel rolls her eyes playfully, but she's relieved. Somewhere on the other side of town, she's sure that Quinn has a shit eating grin on her face. Over the past few weeks Rachel has been catching glimpses of the playful blonde she fell in love with. That particular person has been buried for years under the angry rough exterior she came into contact with when she first showed up in LA. But now, opportunities like these present themselves. These glimpses, such as the one she's experiencing now, only serve to make her fall deeper in love. She quickly types a reply.

_I can't say it won't._

If Quinn wants to play coy, then Rachel will gladly play right along.

Santana comes back with two warm cups of coffee to find Rachel squatting down against a wall with her phone held eagerly in her hand.

"You look like a nerd that just discovered Nintendo," she tells her.

Rachel looks up at her, prepared to respond but another text catches her attention.

_I miss you, too._

She instantly forgets about whatever snarky remark Santana made as she clutches her phone tightly, seeing but not believing the words. Her day just got better.

_You have made me a very happy girl._

After typing the reply she stands up and grabs the steaming cup of coffee from her friend. They walk into a room full of radio personalities, headphones, mics, and chairs. She takes a seat and opens her phone when it buzzes again.

_I'm thrilled._

Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes a second time. Quinn's sarcasm isn't lost on her. She quickly types a reply, telling Quinn to listen to her radio interview.

"Good morning, LA! It's another warm and sunny day as usual. I'm Todd and today on 102.7 FM we have the lovely Rachel Berry here with us. Rachel, anything you wanna say to your fans?" The man talking has shaggy blonde hair and a nice smile as he addresses Rachel eagerly.

Rachel adjusts the headphones on her head and leans into the mic. "Good morning, everyone! It's so nice to finally be able to come here and speak to my adoring fans! We have been planning this interview for a while now."

While Todd talks about taking a quick music break to play her latest single, Rachel opens her buzzing phone once more.

_I'll be listening._

She smiles for what feels like the tenth time today before sitting her phone back down in favor of paying attention to the interviewer.

* * *

><p>Quinn adjusts the dial on her radio for a clearer signal before turning back to her work. She's supposed to be scouting for new talent since the last time she and Puck came up empty but she wants to hear Rachel and she can't hear her if there are other people singing badly in the background.<p>

Puck walks in with his mouth open wide and his eyebrows to the ceiling. Just as he's about to speak, Quinn places her finger over her lips, telling him to shut the hell up. She points to the radio, then turns back around to her computer.

"_Let's not forget that we have the wonderful Miss. Rachel Berry in the studio with us. Now, Rachel, your female fan base is dying to know, are you single?"_

Quinn bites her lip with an inquisitive eyebrow raise.

"Alright pansies, it's time for work. Q. Turn that music off."

Quinn and Puck turn to the door to see Sue standing there, dressed…in a suit. Puck quickly fumbles with the radio to turn it off.

Sue walks more fully into the office with a pointer and begins talking. Quinn groans quietly at the disappointment of not being able to hear Rachel's interview.

Thirty minutes later finds Quinn discretely lifting her left wrist to look at the time on her watch. She suppresses a sigh of impatience as she realizes that she still has another half hour to go before lunch. And on top of that she has therapy today.

Puck reaches under the table and lightly taps Quinn's thigh. She breaks out of her thoughts and turns to face him. He mouths the word, 'Focus' to her before facing forward once more.

"And in conclusion," Sue says as she lays her pointer on the table, "that new girl is golden. The little concerts, the interviews, she's creating great buzz and great business for our label. Let's face it; she's miles ahead of William." The last part is said a little scornfully.

Quinn smiles. She's proud of Rachel. She always knew Rachel would be a star.

"Having said that," Sue continues, "I feel that it's best we jump on the money train sort of speak."

Quinn and Puck stare at her expectantly. Does this mean more pay?

She watches the hunger in their eyes, the drool falling from Puck's mouth. "Pick your jaws up off the floor," she says with an evil smile. "If anyone's getting more money from this, it's going to be Sue Sylvester."

"Excuse me, President Sylvester," Quinn interjects. "But what exactly is _this_?"

"A tour," she tells her as if it's obvious. "I'm going to put her on tour as soon as I can so she can make this company, and subsequently me, more money."

Quinn has enough control to keep her surprise hidden, but if she didn't her jaw would have be on the floor. Rachel's going on tour? But…what does that mean for them?

Her brow furrows only slightly. She's concerned, but can't let it show. Sue doesn't know that she and Rachel are doing whatever it is they're doing. Maybe dating. But Quinn wants to keep it that way. She's not sure whether her involvement with Rachel would be a good thing, a bad thing, or a no one cares thing for the company. And she can't risk Rachel's career. She doesn't really think about her job too much because, although fun, her job isn't really a passion or anything. But Quinn knows that singing is a passion for Rachel. "A tour? Country wide or worldwide?"

Sue sits down on her seven hundred dollar, built in massager chair that she made Kurt drag in, leans back and contemplates. "I don't think she's quite a big enough star for a world tour. We'll do a domestic one and see how it goes. But I like your attitude, Q. Thinking big. We'll get her on the road as soon as possible."

* * *

><p>The ringing of her doorbell catches Quinn's attention. She quirks a curious eyebrow before putting down the book she was reading and getting out of bed to walk to the door. Looking through her peephole, she fights a small smile tugging at her lips. She opens her door to see Rachel standing before her adorned in her signature short skirt, a red blouse and a pair of flats.<p>

"Rachel."

Her appearance catches Quinn a little off guard and she's not sure what to say.

Rachel flashes a bright smile. "We haven't had much time to spend together recently and I thought that it would be fun for us both if we had your favorite and watched a movie."

When Quinn doesn't answer right away, Rachel panics a little and backtracks. "O-or maybe you're exhausted," she says. "I can't imagine the strenuous hours you have to work and I'm sure I'm imposing right now so I'll just—"

"Rachel," Quinn drawls to shut her up. "Out of the two of us, I'm pretty sure you're the one that's exhausted. But if you'd rather eat pizza and watch a movie with me than sleep, I won't stop you."

Her award winning smile returns again and Rachel walks past Quinn and into her house. Quinn grabs the pizza and practically orders Rachel to sit down while she gets a slice of pizza for her. She brings drinks into the living room for them both and they curl up onto her couch and begin watching the movie.

"_Funny Girl_?" Quinn asks with a groan. "Really, Rachel? You could have at least been more creative."

Rachel merely shrugs coyly as she turns towards the TV. She knows Quinn doesn't like the movie and more than likely won't pay attention. Which is why she chose the movie. _She _wants to have Quinn's attention at the moment, not the movie.

"How was your day, Quinn?" she asks in an attempt to get the ball rolling.

Quinn takes a sip of her drink before sitting it down. "It was good, though nothing particularly interesting happened. I think I found some talents though."

This has Rachel interested. Someone new is joining their little record company family? "Who is it?"

"Some guy named Finn. And another named Jesse," she says. "Jesse's the better singer, but in my opinion, Finn can pull off the bad boy image we're looking for a bit better…as long as he doesn't open his mouth. So, right now we're all trying to figure out who would be the best to sign."

Rachel hums in understanding. "If they even say yes," she adds a little challengingly.

"You said yes," Quinn fires back with an instant smirk.

She nods at that. "I did."

Her heart beats a little faster the way it did when she and Rachel would get into playful arguments and she sort of welcomes the feeling. She promised Rachel that she would try and that includes recognizing and even welcoming whatever positive feelings overtook her.

"Did you go to therapy today?"

She nods, feeling the couch dip beside her as Rachel scoots a little closer. She has one leg on the couch tucked into her body and Rachel unconsciously mimics the position. "How was it?"

"It was okay," Quinn breathes. "Same stuff, different day."

"I wish I could have gone," Rachel tells her.

A warm feeling, much like the day Rachel showed up to her first therapy session, seeps into Quinn's chest. She inhales deeply to try to calm the overwhelming feeling. "It's fine, Rachel. Really. I can do these things myself," she reassures. "I'm a big girl."

"I'm aware," she says with an accompanying blush that informs Quinn that Rachel's been appreciating just how much of a 'big girl' she's grown into. It's weird that Quinn doesn't seem to mind. If this had been a couple months ago she would have found the thought of Rachel checking her out to be wrong. But here, now, sitting on her couch facing Rachel—whom seemed to be getting steadily closer—the idea of Rachel checking her out is actually sort of appealing.

It's silent, companionable and Rachel uses the opportunity to gaze at Quinn appreciatively while Quinn seems to be in her own world. She looks down to where their legs almost touch and breathes a little harshly. She wishes they were touching.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Hazel eyes snap up to dark brown and Quinn's lips quirk up slightly. "Isn't that what you've been doing for the past twenty minutes?"

"Yes," Rachel concedes with a smile of her own. "But this question is a bit more personal."

"Sure," she responds vaguely.

A dark brown lock is nervously tucked behind Rachel's ear before she starts speaking. "Were you really married?"

Rachel watches as Quinn slowly turns away from her to face forward, feet off the couch and firmly planted on the ground. Quinn looks toward the TV, suddenly finding the movie more interesting.

A hand reaches out to touch a pale shoulder in comfort as Rachel scoots closer. "If you would rather not talk about it, I understand."

Quinn looks down at the hand resting on her shoulder before meeting Rachel's gaze. And Rachel almost forgets to breathe for a second at the intensity in Quinn's eyes. "I was married for three years," she says quietly.

The gears are slowly turning in Rachel's head. Quinn was really young when she got married. Hell, she's really young _now_. She's not sure what to ask. "Did you—how was it?" She winces after she's asked the question, mentally kicking herself. "I'm sorry. That must sound like a really stupid question considering your recent divorce."

Quinn smiles disarmingly. "It's not a stupid question." She thinks back to the kind man Kenneth was, though a little smothering at times. "It's not stupid at all. Considering I did get divorced, it'd probably lead you to think he was awful. But he wasn't. He was a good husband. Great, actually. But he knew I didn't love him and I think it made him sad."

"And it would have been great," she continues. "If I _could _have loved him, it would have been perfect. I would have been everything that everyone wanted me to be."

Rachel's heart twists painfully at those words. What Quinn was saying, her tone of voice, it sounded so much like regret. Like the love that they share is something to regret and be disappointed about.

Quinn watches Rachel carefully. Her crestfallen features speak to her and she leans in closer. "But I didn't love him," she says softly. "And for a long while I thought there was something wrong with _me_." She takes a deep breath."I started…acting out in really immature ways."

Dark eyes search Quinn's own quizzically and with apprehension. "How so?"

"I would go out," she says. "Puck and I would go out to random bars and mostly work, but sometimes get drunk."

Rachel frowns disapprovingly at Quinn's former behavior. "Something could have happened to you."

"Something _did_ happen. I got that tattoo. And I had sex with Puck."

She waits on pins and needles, looking down at her lap, waiting for the information to sink into Rachel's head. When the supportive hand on her shoulder falls limply away, Quinn's eyes clench shut.

"You…" Rachel says a little incoherently. "And _Noah? _Had sex?"

Quinn nods once.

Rachel stares at her, flabbergasted. She can't really say that she's angry; she doesn't really see how she has a right to be. And she honestly can't say she's surprised. Looking at Quinn and Puck, they always seemed to be plutonic, but a look closer revealed there was something about them that belonged in the 'more than friends' category. Rachel used to think it was because Puck harbored feelings for Quinn. But _this_…this explains it.

"Let me be frank," she begins.

Blowing out a stream of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding in, Quinn slinks back against the couch, prepared for a good tongue lashing.

"Allow me to first say that I am not angry with you, Quinn. While I do not find the idea of you having…relations with anybody else particularly _appealing_, I can acknowledge the fact that you were an adult and you were at least with someone that you trusted."

Her face scrunches up a bit because Rachel sounds more like a parent than her...girlfriend. The word girlfriend makes Quinn give pause. Is that what they are? She can't seem to find a problem with that logic.

She smiles tentatively at Rachel, relieved. "So…you're not mad?"

With a twinkle in her eye that's all too familiar for Quinn, Rachel leans forward even more so that they're face to face. "The only way I'd be angry is if you suddenly told me that you were smitten with…what does he call himself?" she whispers. "Puckasaurus?"

Whatever response she had planned is stuck in her throat. That stupid name has never sounded so sexy. She swallows thickly, instantly entranced. So much so that she's leaning toward Rachel.

The air around them suddenly becomes thick with tension that's been buried under the surface since that night at the club. Hazel eyes dart from Rachel's own to her lips. Quinn remembers how soft they are and how good they feel and she has an _urge _to press her own lips against the ones she's staring at.

Rachel looks so beautiful. She doesn't have any makeup on other than lip gloss and this is the way Quinn prefers her. Even without cosmetics she's practically glowing. She soaks in all of Rachel's features that she's missed all of these years. She feels something strong stirring in her chest and she inhales deeply. This is scary but also really exhilarating.

Her skin is buzzing just like the night she held Rachel and she can't really stay still. Quinn's heart beats a little faster as she leans forward even more, her nose brushing along Rachel's. Her breathing is ragged, heart pounding both in fear and anticipation. Her eyes close and her face balls up as if she doesn't want any of this. But really, she's been thinking about it for a while now.

Rachel watches her intently until her own eyes slip shut when Quinn leans in even closer. Her thoughts are scattered everywhere. She wonders if Quinn really wants this. If this is too soon. If Quinn's going to regret it. She licks her lips because _she _wants this. Really badly. And if Quinn's going to kiss her suddenly and out of the blue then she won't complain. In the back of her mind she's really hoping her phone doesn't start ringing and ruin the moment. This _needs _to happen.

Except, nothing does.

Rachel's hands dig into the flesh of her thigh to try to maintain some semblance of control. But when Quinn licks at her bottom lip and her tongue swipes Rachel's lip in passing because they're just that fucking close, Rachel whimpers because it's just too much and not enough at the same time and she really wants to kiss Quinn. She cuts Quinn a little slack because she seems to be shy and nervous. Rachel is neither of those so she closes the distance slowly.

Her lips press against Quinn's eagerly and she battles with herself, trying not to be grabby. She tilts her head to the right, smoothly, effortlessly brushing her lips against Quinn's in a dance that's all too familiar. She gives up on not being grabby and places her hand on a pale thigh. Quinn's wearing a pair of shorts so short that Rachel's sure she hadn't been expecting company tonight. She lightly brushes her thumb over warm skin as she leans in further.

Finally feeling Rachel's lips on her own is such a heady experience and Quinn can do nothing but kiss back, keep her head above water. It feels so good that she fists a hand in Rachel's hair and curls the other hand around the back of her neck because this is the closest thing she's had to perfection in a while and she's not letting it go. Quinn's lips are just as eager now, giving as good as she gets as she returns every hot, open mouthed kiss with fervor.

Rachel groans into the kiss when she feels Quinn's body relax and go pliant. She scoots closer, dragging her hand higher up Quinn's leg as her tongue swipes her lower lip. And willing lips part for her to slip her tongue inside. Her eyes roll back.

But so does Quinn's. The last time she kissed Rachel she was drunk and both kisses were over far too quickly. Rachel's the only woman she's ever kissed and at this moment she's positive, absolutely sure that she's a lesbian. And she's starting to be okay with that.

Her hand on the back of Rachel's neck becomes active, kneading the flesh there and she smiles when she hears her purr into her mouth. She remembers Rachel likes that. Itching to touch Rachel more fully, her other hand darts out to the bottom of her shirt, toying with the hem.

Rachel pulls back first, resting her forehead against Quinn's as she pants lightly. "You can touch me," she murmurs against her lips, hoping she doesn't sound too desperate.

Quinn bites her lip. She's not sure how to proceed. She's acting like she's never touched another woman before, as if she's never touched _this _woman and it's frustrating.

A breathless laugh passes Rachel's lips as she looks at the concentrated look on Quinn's face. "It's okay." Although Quinn's personality is a tad more dominant than Rachel's own, she was never as forward when it came to the physical side of their relationship. Rachel recalls all the times she took control during the first few times they had sex when they were younger. But when Quinn finally caught on, came out of her shell, she became just as dominant in the bedroom as she was in every other aspect of her life.

She lightly grabs the shaky hand at the hem of her shirt and slips it under until Quinn's cool fingers brush against her taut abs. A shuddering breath is taken as she moves their hands higher. When Quinn's finger brushes her tattoo her entire body trembles and a low whine escapes her throat.

"Is this it?" Quinn whispers as her fingers ghost over the skin just under Rachel's left breast.

Rachel's not sure if that particular area of her body tingles more because it's the only area of her body that has a tattoo or if the _idea _of having Quinn's name on her body is so euphoric that it makes her tingle. She clutches Quinn tightly, breathing raggedly. "Yes."

A grin spreads across kiss-swollen lips. Her hand on Rachel's neck moves a little higher, curling into her hair. She gently tugs it and Rachel's head tips back, baring her throat. Quinn nuzzles the golden skin there, placing tender kisses instead of bruising marks like she did that night at the club. Her hand moves higher up, forgetting the tattoo and massaging Rachel's breast.

Rachel moans loudly as her eyes slip shut. She thinks she hears Quinn mumble the word _'beautiful' _into her skin, but with all the blood rushing to her ears she's not sure. Her thighs clench together against the arousal she's been feeling for the past twenty minutes and her back arches against Quinn's hand, offering everything she is to her. And Quinn accepts the offering, giving Rachel something that only she can fully give her. Pleasure. Quinn buries herself further into Rachel's neck, tenderly sucking on her flesh. She feels something coil tightly in the pit of her stomach and it's a feeling so old, it's new. It's simmering, the heat between her legs and she shifts slightly in her seat.

Rachel thinks she jinxed herself earlier because her phone _does _ring just as her fingers stroke higher on Quinn's thigh. It's loud and blaring and a stark contrast to the peace that seemed to surround her and Quinn for the past hour and half she's been there. Quinn's groan is one of disappointment as she steals her hands back and places a parting kiss to the slightly red flesh she had been worrying between her lips earlier.

Giving an apologetic smile, Rachel turns to her purse on the floor, trying to get her breathing back to normal before answering the phone. "Hello?" She's still panting and the person on the other end asks what's wrong.

Quinn's face is flushed and she's panting as well, staring hard at Rachel. She hadn't planned on starting what they started. But now that she has, she doesn't want it to end. And whoever's on the other end of that line can go to hell.

Rachel doesn't even turn to look at Quinn. She can feel the heated gaze on her and something inside her clenches powerfully. "I-I'm fine, Santana," she all but squeaks. "What can I do for you?"

Her face falls at whatever's said next. "Now? Can it not wait until morning? It's eight o'clock at night."

After more talking Rachel's shoulders fall as she says goodbye to her manager. She turns to Quinn. "I have to go."

A frown works its way onto Quinn's face. The thought of Rachel leaving her house never occurred to her. "Now?" she asks dumbly.

"I'm sorry," is all Rachel says. "Apparently Santana is calling a meeting of our whole team. I'm not sure what for but she says that it will be very beneficial."

Quinn's world sort of spirals after those words reach her ears. The tour. She's positive that's what they're meeting about. Shit. "Oh."

"How eloquent," Rachel teases with a smile. Quinn forces one of her own as she stands up. "I'm glad you came over," she says quietly, almost shyly.

Rachel stands as well and hugs her tightly. "I'm glad you invited me over."

"I didn't," is the wry retort, muffled because Quinn's face is nestled in dark locks.

"Oh, yeah."

They pull back from each other and Quinn walks Rachel to the door. She accepts a peck on the lips and a whispered goodnight before Rachel turns to walk away. When a jet black car pulls out of her driveway she shuts the door behind her.

The credits to _'Funny Girl'_and an open box with only three slices of pizza left greet her when she turns around. She picks turns off the DVD and cleans her living room with mixed feelings. For one, she and Rachel have progressed tremendously and now the thing with her and Puck is out in the open. She's really happy about that and really happy about how things are going between the two of them. But Rachel's going on tour. And it's a summer tour that's going to last months. Rachel has been Quinn's support while she's been going to therapy. Not to mention the fact that they've built something special in recent weeks. But this tour could either strengthen what they have or completely demolish it. Quinn's not worried about Rachel because Rachel is a pretty secure person. She's worried about herself. She's not sure if she's strong enough to withstand the time apart. She's worried that Rachel's going to leave for tour and come back, only to be met with the same Quinn she met when she first came to LA. Old habits die hard. And some are impossible to kick for good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q. 

* * *

><p>"Rachel and I—we were—<em>are<em>…girlfriends."

The words are stilted and awkward as they pour from Quinn's mouth and she sort of flinches after she's finished saying them. She looks down at the floor, not embarrassed but scared. She's never told anyone outside of Puck and Kenneth about her relationship, past and present, with Rachel and not have any type of physical repercussions to show for it.

Emma watches Quinn's unsure and uneasy posture. It's obvious that her sexuality is something she's been battling for a long time. Her job here is to help Quinn get past everything that's happened to her and to accept her sexuality. However, when Quinn suddenly lifts her head, chin jutting out with an air of defiance to her, Emma fights the proud smile that wants to overtake her features.

"Okay."

Quinn's jaw drops to the floor as her eyes widen, her air of aloofness gone. She looks toward Emma in shock. "Okay? That's it?"

"Of course, that's it," she says with a smile. "What am I supposed to say? I'm glad that you're finally able to tell me the nature of your relationship with Rachel. But really, what else am I supposed to say?"

"I…" Quinn is at a loss. "Aren't you going to tell me it's _wrong_? It's immoral. It's degrading. That I should marry a nice, young man."

"Those sound like things that were told to you. Do you really believe them?"

Quinn looks down at her hands, remembering how perfectly they fit with Rachel's own. How her body molded into Rachel's. How good it felt to kiss her, touch her, smell her. "I don't know what I believe anymore," she mumbles.

Emma nods at that. The majority of young women seemed to have a problem with their identity. She can't possibly imagine how hard it is for Quinn to know who she is when she's been told to be someone else her whole life.

"Tell me this, Quinn. How does Rachel feel about you?"

"She loves me," she responds with a smile.

"How do you feel about her?"

Quinn begins to fidget. "I haven't told her in years how I feel about her. I'm not sure I can."

"You're not telling her," Emma coaxes gently. "You're telling me. So it shouldn't be as hard."

"I –I'm not sure I can do this."

"Do you love her?"

She sighs. Why is Emma pushing so many fucking buttons? She's pushing in the wrong direction. Quinn thinks that Emma might be a fraud. If she were a real shrink, like the ones she had at her boarding school, she wouldn't be indulging in such questions.

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to," is all Quinn says.

Emma writes into her notepad. "We can deal with that part a little later. But right now, I just want you to tell me how you feel. Do you love her?"

Quinn nods. 

* * *

><p>Puck eyes Quinn curiously as she noisily types at her computer. "You're angry."<p>

"I am not," she defends without missing a beat. "I just don't understand why we have to do a fucking tour that's out of fucking season anyway."

"Any time you drop more than one f-bomb in a sentence spells anger." He smiles crookedly at her before sliding off the desk he had been sitting on and standing behind her. He places his hands on her shoulders, patting them gently before lightly massaging them. "This is a good thing for her, Q. Quit being grumpy."

"I know," she sighs. "This is good and she'll do great."

He nods before checking his vibrating phone. It's another booty call. "Then what's the problem?" he asks once he's put his phone away.

She looks over her shoulder at him. "Do you think I'll change?"

The weight of those words aren't lost on Puck. He squeezes her shoulders reassuringly. "No," he answers with conviction. "I think it'll be difficult and I think every now and then someone will have to put your ass in line. But you have me and you have your therapist. You'll be fine. Besides, I can always give you sexual healing again."

"Fuck you," she mutters quietly while she continues to type.

"We already played that game," Puck replies, amusement coloring his voice. "I won."

"Gross."

A moment later and Quinn's smiling lightly, a glint in her eye that informs Puck that only trouble is in store for him. "What?" he asks self-consciously.

"I told her," she says mysteriously.

Puck makes a face, stumped. "Told who? What?"

"Rachel. I told her we had sex."

His face completely drains of color as he releases her shoulders from his grip and slowly backs away. "Are you shitting me? Quinn, come _on. _You _know _how much she scares me."

Puck has told Quinn on more than one occasion how much Rachel scares him. Mostly because she's so sassy, and doesn't take any trash from anybody. And the fact that she has a large vocabulary that has rendered his mind useless after a conversation with her doesn't help, either.

Quinn laughs at the look of terror on his face. "Relax," she tells him between chuckles. "She wasn't upset. And she doesn't hate you."

"You sure?" he asks skeptically. "I don't want her to kill me in my sleep or something."

She reaches out to swat his arm. "My girlfriend isn't psycho."

They both freeze after that. Puck's hand flies to cover his mouth, his eyebrows to the ceiling while Quinn looks toward the floor, eyes moving wildly in her head. Did she really say the word girlfriend? She looks up at Puck, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Well…she isn't."

He decides to let it slide and not poke fun at her. "She's still scary."

Quinn laughs at him, nodding her head. "Maybe."

As if talking about her conjured her up, Rachel knocks on Quinn's door before peeking her head inside. "May I come in?"

"Yeah," Quinn says with a special smile on her face that Puck suspects is reserved for Rachel only. "No one ever bothers to knock," she says, glaring pointedly at Puck. "So you don't have to."

Rachel steps inside, greeting Quinn before turning to Puck. "Hello, Noah."

"'Sup, Berry," he says, trying not to be intimidated.

"May I have a word with you outside?"

Puck's eyes dart from Rachel's to Quinn's helplessly. Quinn laughs at the terrified look on his face and takes pity on him. "He's afraid of you, Rachel."

Rachel blinks at Quinn, confused. She then turns to Puck with a bemused expression on her face. "You are afraid of me, Noah?" she asks in a seemingly innocent voice.

Quinn rolls her eyes, having fallen for that sugar-coated voice plenty of times in her lifetime. Puck rapidly shakes his head back and forth. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it here…with a witness present."

She heaves a heavy sigh, as if this is all a burden. "Very well." She steps further into the room towards him. Once they're face to face she looks him directly in the eye. "Quinn has informed me of your coupling."

He coughs nervously into his hand. "Well, I wouldn't really call it a _coupling_…"

Her lips pull into a disarming smile that Puck just finds even scarier. "The two of you have engaged in intercourse that I do not necessarily approve of. But in light of everything that Quinn has been through I suppose that I should extend to you my gratitude—"

"Wait, what?" At the word 'gratitude' Puck tunes back in to a conversation that he had otherwise checked out of. "You're thanking me? Why?"

She nods and clears her throat. "Yes, I am thanking you. I cannot imagine how vulnerable Quinn must have been that night and I am thanking you for being there for her. She could have just as easily been with anyone else—"

"I'm not a slut," Quinn grumbles from her desk.

"—and I am happy that you were the person that was there for her."

Puck crosses his arms, squares his shoulders, and stares at her hard. Just what is her angle? "So, let me get this straight," he starts. "You're thanking me…for sleeping with your girlfriend?"

Quinn leans forward and places her face in her hands. Leave it to Puck.

"E-essentially, yes," Rachel tells him, a little caught off guard by how blunt the statement was.

He eyes her a little longer, then flashes a crooked grin before calling over his shoulder. "Quinn, your girlfriend is hot."

When she looks up, both Rachel and Puck are smiling in her direction. Rachel's smile is all amusement and Puck's smile is…gross. "Get out, Puck."

He laughs at the peeved look on her face before walking out of the room. "I'll lock the door," he tells her.

Rachel walks toward her. "Quinn, you shouldn't be so mean to Noah," she says reproachfully.

She scowls at her as Rachel gives her a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ready as ever."

They walk out of Quinn's office and towards the elevator. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Quinn turns around to see Kurt standing beside Mercedes, staring in their direction with a curious expression on his face. She nervously whispers to Rachel to hurry up. Kurt's the gossip queen of the label and she really doesn't need him spreading rumors. 

* * *

><p>Quinn tosses her keys onto the table beside the door as she and Rachel walk into her house. They had gone out for sushi, Rachel's choice. And although Quinn had informed her of the possibility of being photographed, Rachel wouldn't be denied.<p>

During dinner Rachel had told Quinn about her upcoming tour and although Quinn had said she was beyond happy, Rachel noticed that she had gone quiet on her during the ride home. Distant.

They enter the house and Quinn walks straight to the kitchen to deposit leftovers in the fridge.

Rachel cautiously follows her into the kitchen, watching Quinn's harsh and jerky movements as she practically wrenches the door to the refrigerator open. "Quinn," she says softly. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," is the gruff reply that reaches her ears. Rachel walks further into the room because it's obvious to her that something is wrong and needs to be discussed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The refrigerator door slams shut and Quinn walks over to the counter beside it and rests her back against it. "There's nothing to talk about, Rachel. There's nothing wrong."

"Okay, stop," Rachel tells her. "I thought we would have gotten past this defensive thing you do—"

"I'm not being defensive," Quinn responds with an edge to her voice. "I'm merely stating that _I'm fine_."

"Is this about the tour? Because you were fine during dinner before I brought it up."

Quinn really hates that Rachel knows her so well. That after all these years she's still an open book. "No."

"It is," she confirms without effort. "What is it about this tour that has you so upset?"

Quinn turns around and quickly busies herself with unwashed dishes that she could otherwise put in her dishwasher. "I'm not upset. I'm happy for you."

"I don't doubt that you're happy for me, Quinn. But something is bothering you. Are you worried about me? Do you not think that I'll do well?"

She spins around to face Rachel, back against the counter once more. Grabbing a nearby towel, she wipes at her sud-soaked hands. "I think you'll do extremely well." Quinn manages to make her tone both reassuring and annoyed in a way only she can do. "This is a good thing for you."

"Then I don't understand," Rachel continues, not letting up. "What's wrong with you?'

"You want to know what's wrong?" Quinn questions darkly. "What's wrong is that I'm scared for you to leave."

Silence hangs thickly between them at the admittance. Quinn's jaw clenches in an attempt to limit her word vomit. She watches Rachel watch her. Rachel looks a little bewildered, as if she's not following.

She walks more fully into the room and toward Quinn. "Why would you be afraid?"

"I don't know."

Rachel makes a disgruntled face. "Quinn, we've played this game for months. Please don't do this now. Just talk to me."

Quinn's arms fold tightly across her chest. Her eyes fall from Rachel's face to the ground. "I'm scared that I won't be the same when you come back."

"How would you be different?"

She rubs her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm afraid that you'll leave and I'll go back to the person I was. And that when you come back, it'll be the past few months all over again."

"I see," Rachel says quietly, already thinking of ways to solve the situation. Finally, it hits her. "I just won't go on the tour."

The words feel akin to a slap in the face for Quinn. It jolts her out of her own thoughts. "Are you crazy?" she questions brusquely. "You're going on that tour."

"I resent being called crazy, Quinn," Rachel responds just as harshly. "And this is my career. I'm not going on the tour if you have reservations about it."

"Who cares what reservations I have? This isn't about me. It's about you!"

Rachel's hands find her hips. "Stop screaming at me! We're in the same room. I do not wish to tour around the country if it's going to be distressful for you. Deal with it and stop being so quarrelsome."

"_Rachel_," Quinn calls to her, placing added stress on her name. "We are not going to argue about this. You're going on the damn tour."

Rachel's face turns red at being told what to do. Her shoulders pull tight and she stares a hole right through Quinn. "You will not treat me as if I'm your child, Quinn. I have two fathers of my own and they have raised me just fine. _I _decide what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it."

Quinn digs the palms of her hands into her eyes in frustration. She tries to calm herself down, knowing that if she doesn't she and Rachel will just spend the rest of the night arguing. That's one of the things she secretly loves about her. Rachel is every bit her equal. "You're being argumentative right now and you know it. This is your dream. So…go. Go on the tour."

"But if you need me—"

"What I need," Quinn tells her in a calmer voice, "is for you to do this tour. All you talked about when we were younger is being a famous singer and now you finally have that. Don't throw away your dream for me."

Rachel's lips turn down. "But I won't be throwing away my dream. I'll still be able to sing. I'll just be here with you. I want to be with you."

Quinn reaches out and grabs the hem of her shirt to pull her closer, the worst of the argument over. "Don't start pouting," she murmurs into her hair once she's wrapped her arms around her. "You're going on the tour and that's the end of it. Once you come back you'll be a whole lot happier that you did it."

"But I'll miss you." Rachel speaks the words into Quinn's flesh as she kisses her cheek. "You'll miss me."

She nods at that as she pulls back to stare into Rachel's eyes. "I will."

Quinn looks deep in Rachel's hopeful eyes. Her therapy session earlier in the week comes to mind and she tries to convey her feelings. "Rachel, I…" She sighs, shaking her head at her own inability to speak. There's so much she wants to say. Her hands reach up to cup both of Rachel's cheeks, thumbs stroking just under her eye. "I…" A frustrated breath pushes past her flared nostrils. Why is this so hard? She feels like a baby that hasn't learned to talk yet.

Rachel's own eyes narrow slightly as she searches Quinn's distressed features, trying to figure out what's wrong. Her body is tense, her face is contorted, and her mouth keeps opening and closing, trying to say something. Finally, understanding dawns on her. Her heart swells. "Oh," she breathes around a smile. She steps closer to Quinn, her arms encircling her waist. "I love you, too," she tells her quietly before placing another kiss on her cheek.

When she feels Quinn's body relax and melt into her own, she knows that she's said the right words. She pulls back, only to find Quinn's eyes are already on her. Hazel eyes stare at her intently and Rachel would pay anything to know just what Quinn is thinking.

She leans in slowly, connecting her lips with Rachel's. And although her descent onto Rachel's lips is slow, Rachel still gasps in surprise when it happens. Her hands fist into the back of Quinn's shirt as she steps even closer, her thigh slipping between Quinn's legs.

Quinn's lips are insistent, pressing, pushing as she tries to convey all the words she can't bring herself to say yet. Just because she can't say them doesn't mean she doesn't feel them. And with Rachel leaving to tour for months, Quinn really wants to let her know how she feels.

Her hands wound around Rachel's neck, one cupping the back of her head to keep her in place. And Rachel complies, content to let Quinn explore. She's not sure what this is all about but Quinn's movements seem urgent and everything is being done with importance.

"I can't say it," she whispers against her lips when she pulls back. She gently pulls Rachel's hands from her body so she can move. Her hands slip under Rachel's shirt because Quinn just needs to _feel. _She traces her abs once before moving upwards.

Rachel whimpers when the flat of Quinn's palm pushes under her bra and runs across her nipple. "I know."

She's becoming impatient. In one swift movement Rachel's shirt if off her head and her bra is being unsnapped. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel it."

Nodding her head, Rachel just tries to hold on as Quinn spins them around, pinning her to the counter. "I know how you feel, Quinn."

Quinn's shoulders sag in relief at those words. She stops her ministrations, placing her hands on Rachel's hips. She inhales and exhales, telling herself to just calm down. Rachel cups her face in her hands and pulls her closer. She kisses her softly. "Do you honestly think that I would have tried as hard as I've been trying if I believed that you didn't love me?" She smiles at the peaceful look that washes over Quinn's face. "You're not that hard to read, Quinn."

"You're just saying that because you've known me for forever," she instantly retorts with a small smile.

"That helps," Rachel says before kissing her again. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she marvels at how far Quinn has come since the first day of their little reunion. The sixteen year old Quinn she used to know has completely resurfaced and Rachel feels as if she's falling in love all over again. Every gentle kiss and warm touch from her has Rachel head over heels.

She manages to wrench her mouth away from Quinn's to kiss along her jaw. Her thoughts briefly travel to how right Santana was. Instead of moping, she should be giving Quinn little nudges to help her along. They seem to be working.

Her lips quirk up when they skim a rapidly beating pulse point. In Rachel's opinion, it's pretty amazing. The act of re-familiarizing herself with a body that she already considers to be more familiar than her own is amazing, beautiful, sexy and so much more.

"Can I sleep over?" she murmurs into a blushing red ear. Quinn's flesh is so warm and Rachel can barely keep her hands to herself. Eager hands slip under Quinn's shirt. Her nails rake across the plane of her lower back and she moans into that same ear when she feels Quinn's hips jerk into her own. "_Rachel._"

"I want to sleep in your bed," she continues, pushing Quinn's buttons in a way only she knows how. "With you."

At those words, Quinn's body stiffens, Rachel's words finally penetrating the cloud of lust around her. "I don't know, Rachel," she mumbles with little conviction.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," she quickly rushes out, her breath puffing out against Quinn's cheek. "Maybe this is a bad idea. I should probably just…"

She trails off, trying to get past Quinn and possibly leave after making a fool of herself. But she quickly realizes that she's stuck, still pinned between Quinn and the counter in her kitchen. And Quinn seems to have no intentions in moving.

Quinn holds her there, detecting the apprehension suddenly taking over Rachel's body. The familiar tension in her own body alerts her to the fact that she actually likes the idea of Rachel staying over. A lot.

Her mind races, trying to find any reason as to why Rachel shouldn't spend the night. She doesn't come up with any. Her mind and body both telling her that Rachel should most definitely spend the night. "You can stay."

"Really?" she asks hopefully.

Quinn takes a shuddering breath, willing her nerves away. "I don't know how this is going to work or how it'll turn out," she says softly. "But you can stay."

Elated, she moves in to give Quinn a hug, only to notice that Quinn's not staring at her. She's staring…downward. And a small blush is spreading across her face. Confused, Rachel looks down as well, only now noticing that she's topless. She doesn't make an attempt to cover herself, content to let her stare. Quinn's obvious ogling is as important to her further accepting her sexuality as it is to getting Rachel really hot.

After giving what she feels is an adequate peep show, she bends down to pick up her shirt and bra before grabbing a pale hand that had been on her hip. "This is going to be great," she tells her before they walk out of the kitchen and towards the back of Quinn's house.

After both women shower and Quinn gives Rachel some night clothes to wear, Rachel slips under black, silk sheets, her head propped up on her hand. Quinn pulls back the covers before getting into bed as well. Rachel's on her side of the bed again but she doesn't complain. For whatever reason Rachel seems to gravitate towards it.

Rachel watches as Quinn settles into bed beside her. Not wanting to startle her, she doesn't reach out or scoot closer. That doesn't stop her eyes from roaming, however. The expanse of Quinn's throat, the rise and fall of her chest, her flat, toned stomach, pale thighs. She licks her lips.

Quinn turns to face Rachel. Their eyes lock. Her hand tentatively reaches out and loosely grips Rachel's own, interlacing their fingers. She's rewarded with a smile.

"Remember when we used to stay awake until one in the morning at my house, just holding hands?" Rachel asks with a giggle.

She hears Quinn groan at that and it only serves to make her laugh harder. "I would always wake up exhausted," she laments. "But you would always wake up as annoyingly cheerful as ever. How you managed to do it without a single cup of coffee I'll never know."

Rachel swats her arm, offended. "My cheerfulness is not at all annoying, Quinn."

Quinn makes a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat, not at all paying attention. She looks down at their joined hands, squeezing Rachel's own. "I'm proud of you," she says from seemingly out of nowhere. But she's been wanting to tell Rachel that for a while. It was always Rachel's dream to be a writer and singer and now she's living it.

"Thank you," Rachel whispers right back at her. "I'm proud of _you. _And a little surprised. I didn't know you wanted to work A&R."

"I don't. I didn't. It's just that…you liked music, and, well—we got separated. So I just thought that since we couldn't be together that I—we could be close by…" she shakes her head. "I don't know what I thought."

A while ago Quinn's therapist asked her was her father the reason why she worked in the music business world and she had said no. When she followed Puck into the world of music her father was the farthest thing from her mind. She had thought of Rachel and of how the only way she could feel connected to her former girlfriend again is if she worked with something that Rachel had considered her passion.

Now Rachel can't help herself. She swarms Quinn quickly, enveloping her in a hug. "I had no idea," she breathes. What do you say to a thing that? Her throat is tight with emotion and she can barely speak.

Quinn's body briefly tenses before she relaxes in Rachel's embrace. She doesn't resist when Rachel lightly pushes against her body. She just goes with it, lying flat on her back. And when Rachel's body molds tightly against her side, when her head rests against her collarbone, Quinn does nothing but wrap one arm around Rachel's waist, the other rising up to curl into her hair.

Rachel's eyes shut, the most content she's been in years. Her body melts into Quinn's and she sighs in relief. "If you didn't want to be an A&R then what did you want to be?"

Her hand strokes dark hair as she runs the thumb of her other hand over the smooth skin of Rachel's hip absentmindedly. Her shirt had ridden up and her skin is warm. "You'll think it's silly."

"I will not. Now tell me."

Quinn lightly pinches Rachel's hip, feeling her squirm before replying wryly, "Okay, boss."

"I wanted to be a teacher," she continues a moment later. "I always wanted to educate children, mold them, guide them. Correctly," she adds. "Not the way I was. I wanted to teach them that they could be comfortable with themselves."

Rachel nods against Quinn's neck, understanding how important this is to her. "Even with their sexuality?"

Quinn's quiet for a moment. Her thumb continues to stroke Rachel's tan skin as her other hand plays with dark brown hair. She's in love all over again. With a woman. And her love for Rachel is stronger than it's ever been. "Especially their sexuality," she speaks softly.

"If you still want to be a teacher then I think you should become one. I think that many young men and women can benefit from an educator like you. Besides, you already enjoy being in charge and giving orders," she teases.

She pinches Rachel a little harder and this time she squeals. "I have a new order for you. Go to sleep. It's late."

"It's only twelve," she huffs. "But fine."

She sits up to loom over Quinn, placing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Goodnight, Quinn," she whispers affectionately.

Tossing an arm over Quinn's torso, Rachel settles down against her body, waiting for sleep to overtake her. Before she slips into her dreams, however, she hears Quinn whisper into her hair. Her heart soars and her eyes prickle at the words.

"I love you, Rachel." 


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

**A/N: **I had some time off yesterday and today to edit the next three chapters. So, eleven, twelve and thirteen are being posted now. And I'm hoping to post the fourteenth (final chapter) either tonight or tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Quinn presses Rachel against her mattress quickly as she places a sloppy kiss to her lips. Her hands fist against the pillows on either side of Rachel's head as her tongue slides into her mouth. Rachel is leaving in less than a week and Quinn can't really find the words to articulate her feelings. 'I love you' just doesn't seem like enough.<p>

"I leave in five days," Rachel says conversationally once Quinn's tongue leaves from within her throat. Her departure is something she's been constantly thinking about since she was informed she was going on tour. Her legs wrap around a slim waist when Quinn settles between them. Her mind swirls and is a bit useless because this is Quinn Fabray, the woman her tattoo is dedicated to, between her eager thighs. She's never been more excited about the possibility of sex and she hopes it never ends.

Nipping at her neck, Quinn roughly runs her hand up a leg wrapped around her waist. "I know."

Rachel's blood runs cold at the equally chilling tone of voice Quinn uses. It sounds as if Quinn isn't doing this because she enjoys it. It sounds like she's forcing herself to do it. Rachel stiffens as pink lips continue to press against her neck, the slow and steady rock of Quinn's hips still managing to create fire in the pit of her stomach. What's left of her mind wars with her body as she gently pushes Quinn away.

"You're not ready."

Either the words don't resister or Quinn isn't listening. Her hand reaches under Rachel's skirt and cups her gently. Rachel's sigh sounds more like a moan as her back arches.

"Quinn, you're not ready," she tries again.

"You are," Quinn replies, not meeting swiftly darkening brown eyes.

Rachel flushes at the accusation. It's true. She's really ready. "Yes. But you aren't. And I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to."

When her fingers slip just inside pink panties, Rachel pushes harder, forcing them both into a sitting position.

It's quiet for a moment. The only sound being Rachel's uneven breathing. She smoothes out her skirt and combs a hand through her hair, trying to get a handle on her hormones. Closing her eyes, she breathes in deeply. Her body is craving Quinn's touch, already knowing how firm and passionate she can be. But her mind is telling her that now really isn't the time.

Her voice is scratchy and she watches Quinn shiver when she calls her name.

"Rachel, I want this." Her rumbling voice makes Rachel throb.

"As do I."

She exhales softly, not surprised, but still relieved. "Then what's the problem?"

"You're not ready."

Quinn turns to her, pupils dilated as she stares at the bed sheets, hair mussed. Her eyes narrow at the insinuation. But it's true. She's not ready for what she's trying to push herself and Rachel into. That doesn't mean she likes to hear it, though. "That's not your call to make."

"It is when you can't look at me while you're touching me," she responds evenly. "Or even right now."

Quinn recoils, caught off guard. She hadn't even noticed that she wasn't making eye contact with Rachel. Her eyes slowly lift to Rachel's own and she stares into them attentively. She takes in Rachel's obvious arousal. The same arousal she's sure is reflected in her own eyes along with the love she sees in brown eyes as well.

"Rach, it's not like that. I want you."

Rachel smiles, more at Quinn's casual use of her nickname than the reassuring words she's using.

"I understand that, Quinn," she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And it should be noted that I am turned on right now by your forwardness. However, I really think we should wait."

She releases the tension from her body, knowing that there's nothing she can say. Rachel's right. As much as Quinn wants to make love to her, she's not ready.

"Hey," Rachel calls to her softly. "Look at me." She scoots closer, wrapping her arms around Quinn. "You have come a very long way, Quinn. Don't set yourself back by jumping into something before you're ready."

She cups her face in both hands and brings her closer, tucking blonde hair behind Quinn's ear. "I love you," she whispers before kissing her.

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Emma squirts a dollop of hand sanitizer into her open palm before rubbing them together. She clears her throat and crosses her legs. "How do you feel today, Quinn?"<p>

Picking up and plucking a piece of lent from her black skirt, Quinn folds her hands tightly in her lap, a little apprehensive. "Honestly?"

"I always find that honesty helps during therapy," Emma responds with a smile.

She gives up her prim and proper sitting posture in favor of slumping back in her seat. "I'm not having a good day. Or week for that matter."

"Care to tell me why?"

"Rachel leaves in two days."

Quinn briefly marvels at how early she's opened up to Emma about her problems. Had this session occurred a month ago, she wouldn't have admitted this until probably the last seven minutes of her session. But this time, she's only been in Emma's office for ten minutes and she's already divulged her biggest problem as of late.

"You've come a long way, Quinn," Emma responds, as if sensing where Quinn's thoughts are. Maybe she's thinking along the same lines.

"That's about the tenth person that's told me that," she grumbles with a small smile.

"You said she's going on tour, correct?" Emma asks, trying to get back on task.

Quinn's hand reaches up to smooth long, blonde hair from her eyes. Rachel's been nagging about her wearing it down instead of a ponytail, but she hasn't worn it that way for years. When she was younger, she used to pin her hair towards the side of her head to keep it from her face. But she's since fallen out of habit and forgets her hair clip nearly every morning. It frustrates her a little but Rachel likes it so she deals with it.

Once her hair is out of her face, she responds. "Yes, across the country. However, it's been cut in half because she needs to record for her next album soon. Another artist at our label, Will, has become more successful than our label planned for. He's heading back into the booth to record another album soon as well and President Sylvester wants to get Rachel into the studio first."

"How long is she going to be touring?"

"Two months."

Emma hums in acknowledgement as she writes in her notebook. She waits patiently for Quinn to continue.

"I'm scared, Emma."

Telling someone other than the two people she trusted most in the world her fears wasn't exactly ideal for Quinn. But she's come to learn that not every person she comes into contact with is bad. She's learned that there are good people in the world and Emma is one of them.

Emma smiles reassuringly. "Have you talked to Rachel about your fears?"

"We've…argued about it, yes."

Emma's expression is dubious at best and Quinn laughs. "That's just how she and I work. It's actually pretty healthy for us. I promise."

Emma can't help but smile back at her, glad to see her patient happy. However, she still scribbles down a list of pamphlets about how to better communicate with a significant other.

"We still have fifteen minutes left," she tells Quinn. "Is there anything you want to discuss?"

Quinn shifts in her seat, crossing her legs and digging the heel of her pump into the floor. "I, well…yes."

When Emma motions for her to continue, she takes a deep breath. "Rachel and I have been dating for a couple of months now and I'm getting…frustrated."

"Well then maybe your arguing isn't as healthy as you thought," Emma muses.

Pink tints normally pale cheeks as Quinn pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes find the ceiling. "That's not the type of frustrated I mean," she says slowly. "Although, arguing does nothing but…frustrate my frustrations further."

Emma's hand freezes. She had been writing down the names of pamphlets to help Quinn with her arguing with Rachel. She slowly rips that page from her notebook, deciding that Quinn needs a _completely _different set of pamphlets.

"Oh…I see."

Not that Quinn would know, but Emma is still a virgin. The thought of sex—mixing sweat, spit, and fluids does not blend well with her need for cleanliness. She's not sure how helpful she can be. "Go on."

Quinn wrings her hands together in her lap. "It's not like I don't want her or anything. Because I do. I do. But I'm not sure how far I can go yet. And we went pretty far earlier this week and she told me to stop." She sighs in annoyance.

"I'm not sure how far I can go," she reiterates. "But I would like to do, I don't know, more?"

Emma's eyes are wide as she stares at Quinn. That was a lot to soak in at once and she's not sure where to even start. "I-if you need help on how to perform lesbian sex, I have a pamphlet just outside," she supplies.

Quinn chuckles enigmatically at that. "I don't need a pamphlet on that, I'm sure. I've done it enough times to know how to do it correctly."

* * *

><p>Rachel watches from the other side of Quinn's desk as she straightens her crisp white blouse before continuing to write something that was obviously important. She eyes pale enticing collarbones briefly before looking out of a nearby window with a quiet sigh.<p>

Quinn quirks an eyebrow inquisitively but doesn't remove her eyes from her work. "Something wrong?"

"Just tired. Grueling work hours and all," Rachel announces, hoping she sounds convincing.

"You're sold out everywhere," Quinn says warmly as she continues to work out minor kinks of Rachel's tour. "Which place are you most excited about going to?"

As if there's really any question. "I am excited about the prospect of seeing my dads again, so Lima is most anticipated."

A fond smile touches Quinn's lips. "Tell them I said hello."

She returns the smile. "I will."

It's silent then and Rachel's eyes lose focus as she tries to remember the last time she's even seen her fathers. She misses them immensely because it's been almost half of a year since she's seen them. When she arrived in LA she practically dove into her work and hasn't come up for air since.

"Quinn?"

The only indication that she has her attention is the way her hand falters briefly before she continues to write. Rachel chuckles quietly. Quinn isn't the best listener when she's working.

"I know that you've already secured the tour locations and dates and that it's already set in stone for the most part. But can Lima, Ohio please be my last stop? Although I desperately want to see my fathers I would very much appreciate it if they were the last people I see so that my memory of them can be fresh in my mind when I return—"

At this point Quinn's tuned her out. She gets the gist of it and doesn't want to subject herself to any more babble. That woman can talk.

"I think I can do that," she says simply before grabbing her phone. She dials only three numbers that Rachel guesses is an office extension before saying, "I need a favor."

Rachel watches in awe as Quinn works. She likes this serious, business side of Quinn. A lot. She likes it even more when Quinn crosses her legs and she sees a flash of her pencil skirt and black pumps under her desk.

Quinn watches Rachel watch her briefly before getting back to work. "Look," she commands into the phone to someone Rachel doesn't even know. "We're a team around this office. I've done everything else. The least you can do is switch a couple of dates around." She pauses. "Yes, I'm well aware that they've sold out. It's not like we're telling hundreds of fans per venue that we're cancelling. We're simply telling them that the concert they're attending has been moved to a different date."

Rachel watches as Quinn's shoulders pull tight, a sure sign of her annoyance growing. "You know what you need to do. Get it done."

The phone shuts with a deafening thud and Rachel's mildly amused and a little worried. "If switching the dates around will cause confusion and tension in the office—"

"It won't," Quinn says a little roughly. "That person is just a bi—"

"Quinn," she intones. She doesn't like it when Quinn swears and she's told her that on more than one occasion. "Be nice."

She smirks lightly before grabbing a paper at the far end of her desk and bringing it to her. "Being nice doesn't get me anywhere in this office."

* * *

><p>Quinn and Rachel lie side by side on Quinn's bed; the only light in the room comes from a small lamp on a nightstand. Rachel's leaving tomorrow and she insisted that she sleep over Quinn's house.<p>

"I'm going to miss you," she murmurs. They're lying face to face and Rachel can't help but be so smitten with Quinn right now. She runs her hand from Quinn's knee to her hips, her waist, skims her breast and smiles at the quiet sigh she's rewarded with, brushes her neck, and cups the side of her face. "I'm really going to miss you."

Being able to touch Quinn is still a new liberty that Rachel takes full advantage of. Her excuse for touching being that she can't help that she's a tactile person. But touching Quinn, being connected with her after being disconnected for so long is such a warm welcome. Every time she's able to get her hands on Quinn without her flinching away further solidifies the special bond that Rachel's sure they share.

She watches as too many emotions to decipher flashes through Quinn's eyes before she simply replies, "I'll miss you, too."

Quinn feels her heart clench. There's so much she wants to say. But that seems to be a running theme she has with Rachel. So much to say and no way to communicate it. She becomes restless again because 'I love you' can never be enough.

Quinn kisses Rachel softly as she lies halfway on top of her atop her bed. After talking to Emma about her frustrations she's calmed down, somewhat. She didn't take any lesbian sex tip pamphlets, however. And she was a little offended that Emma even offered them to her. Just because she hasn't had sex with a woman in seven years, outside of that drunken time with Rachel a few months ago, doesn't mean she's forgotten how to. Judging by the sounds Rachel made that night, Quinn thinks she remembers how to please a woman _very _well.

Her right hand, which had been patiently waiting on Rachel's stomach for all of five minutes, deftly slides under a beige shirt. She quickly unsnaps the front clasp of Rachel's bra, and a small cry is emitted from Rachel when she palms her breast.

The warm weight of Rachel's breast in her hand causes the familiar coiling in Quinn's stomach to return. Her hips shift forward at the thought of taking as much of the breast in her hand into her mouth as possible.

Rachel groans, back arching into Quinn's hands as she softly pinches her nipple before twisting it roughly. Her hand flies to Quinn's hip digging her fingers into her flesh, just needing to ground herself.

Quinn hisses at the pleasurable pain that shoots straight between her legs. She quickly climbs on top of Rachel, needing to be closer. "Hey," she whispers once she's hovering over the other woman with a teasing smile on her lips.

Rachel opens her eyes, having shut them around the time Quinn first pinched her nipple. And it's like a blast from the past; Quinn hovering over her with a smug grin on her face. The grin of a Cheshire. Memorable. "Quinn…"

She hums in acknowledgement before crashing her lips to Rachel's. She supports herself with one hand, the other one stroking the tattoo under Rachel's breast. She knows she's found it when she feels the body beneath her shiver. Sliding a thigh between willing legs, Quinn straddles Rachel's own, pressing down.

A long, deep moan slithers from Rachel at the first contact of Quinn, warm and wet against her thigh. Finally. The physical manifestation of the want Quinn's been denying for months is so mesmerizing. As if not believing what she's feeling, she presses harder into Quinn.

"Rachel…" Quinn whimpers against Rachel's lips as she helplessly grinds her hips against the strong muscle of her thigh. "_Rachel_," she moans. She feels powerless against her own arousal. All she knows at this very moment is the woman pinned beneath her.

Rachel nods, as if understanding her girlfriend's breathless cries. Gripping her hips, she roughly slides Quinn against her thigh, eyes fluttering as Quinn's head tips back. Somewhere in her mind, she knows she should be stopping this, that Quinn isn't ready. But in the span of five minutes since Quinn climbed on top of her, she's lost herself.

Quinn leans forward and buries her face in Rachel's neck licking, nipping, sucking. She's never been happier to be wearing a skirt. It's moments like this that her need for Rachel consumes her, terrifies her but sends her heart racing. "Tell me you're mine," she pants into her skin. Her knee presses up against Rachel's panties and she feels her leaking through the material. "Tell me this is for me."

Rachel's body is writhing, her bangs are sticking to her forehead and her clothes are too constricting. She can barely think, let alone respond to the heated words being spoken against her flesh. She feels even teeth dig into her skin with impatience and her hips move faster as she tries to formulate a reply. "I-I'm yours, Quinn. All yours."

"Forever."

Rachel nods her head. "Y-yes."

Quinn growls. "No." She pulls back from Rachel's neck to get a good look at her face. "Say it."

She's not sure where this is coming from. Sure, when she was younger she and Rachel promised each other forever all the time. But she's not younger now. She's an adult and has learned that some things just don't work out. But there's something so basic and primal about this moment that it only seems logical to claim Rachel, to have her forever because right here, right now Rachel is all she's ever needed.

Her eyes flutter open at the commanding tone. Rachel licks her lips as she pushes out uneven breaths. Her insides are starting to burn from a familiar fire that's never felt this hot. "Forever," she pants, breath fanning over Quinn's face.

Hips pumping faster and faster, Quinn whines in the back of her throat as she feels herself get closer. "I want you to come," she tells Rachel. It's been so long since anything has felt this good and she's almost embarrassed at how quickly this is going to end for her.

A wry smile that makes Quinn ache adorns Rachel's lips as one hand tightens on Quinn's hip and the other grabs the back of her neck. "You first."

She brings Quinn down for a searing kiss, thrusting her tongue into her mouth. The other woman is moaning with every thrust now and Rachel's memory comes into play. This is the part where she proves how much she knows her girlfriend. Rachel's a singer at heart. So she considers it only natural to be able to detect pitch change. Change such as the minute difference of Quinn's moans right before she climaxes. Her moans increase in pitch, but just barely. Ears in tuned to her every moan, Rachel waits for the moment, holding off her own orgasm that's quickly chasing after her.

She doesn't have to wait for very long. Quinn feels her stomach tighten; her hands grasp the sheets below her in an iron grip as she emits a choked cry. All of her nerve endings are alive. She hasn't had an orgasm this good in so long that she actually thinks she might die. She shudders on top of Rachel, hips bucking without rhythm. "I love you."

Rachel's back arches hard as she comes as well, blindsided by the declaration. She feels herself flood as she moans loudly into the still air of Quinn's room. Her arms wrap tightly around Quinn's waist, nails digging into her skin desperately, needing to feel close to her as her entire world shatters.

It's Quinn that comes to her senses first, panting into Rachel's neck. She smiles lazily, sated, as she picks her head up to look at the shorter woman. Rachel's eyes are shut tight, catching her breath as well as she tries to wrap her mind around what just happened.

It's weird for Quinn because she doesn't have the urge to pull away or run or…anything. All she wants to do is lie there. So she does. She rolls off of Rachel, onto her back, slings one arm over her eyes and just lies there.

When her eyes finally open and she blinks away the colorful spots, Rachel turns her head to face Quinn. For once she's speechless, mouth opening and closing but no words forming.

She watches as Quinn gets up from the bed and her heart sinks a little. She sits up to look at her. "Where are you going?"

Quinn detects the tremor in Rachel's voice and turns to her quickly. She straightens her skirt, trying to look at least a _little _presentable. "I was just going to shower," she replies, voice still husky. "I'm a little…" Her nose crinkles, cutely in Rachel's opinion. "Sticky."

"Oh!" she squeaks. "Of course. I-I don't know what I was thinking."

Quinn doesn't respond, just walks into the bathroom and steps into the shower. She cleanses her body as she tries to sort out her mind. She changes the dial controlling the water to cold in an attempt to cool the fire in her body so that she can actually think.

She lost control of herself during the almost sex she had with Rachel and she feels out of place. All of the words she said scare the hell out of her. Telling Rachel to promise to be hers forever comes as just as much of a shock to her as it did to Rachel. And the bewildered expression that Rachel had on her face when it was over doesn't help things in the slightest.

Quick, shallow breaths are taken as Quinn tries her best not to hyperventilate. But she can't help it. She jumped the gun big time. Rachel was right when she said that Quinn wasn't ready and now she wishes she had listened. But she didn't expect it to be so good that she'd spout off words like that. Nothing has ever felt that good in the last seven years and she's forgotten how alive her body can be. She's forgotten what passion is and in the span of an embarrassing ten minutes the words from Rachel's mouth, her body, her very soul spoke to Quinn and rejuvenated her every being.

The shower turns off abruptly and Quinn steps out. She towels off and dresses before walking back into her room. "Shower's free," she says evenly.

Rachel hesitates, wanting to say something, but settles on a quiet, "Okay." She trudges to the shower, a little hurt. She doesn't understand what's wrong. If Quinn wasn't ready then she should have stopped. Better yet, she shouldn't have started.

She makes her shower quick because all she wants to do is go to sleep and forget this whole awkward event even happened.

When she walks back into the room Quinn is on her back, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She must really be thinking hard because Rachel manages to make it to the bed and lie down without Quinn's acknowledgement.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong? Or even acknowledge what you said?" Rachel asks her quietly.

Quinn doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say because this is all confusing. And she doesn't want to open her mouth and utter some scathing remark that she doesn't mean in an attempt to defend herself. But what would she be defending herself against? Rachel has proven time and time again that she means no harm, that she's one of the few people that have been in Quinn's life that has never set out to intentionally hurt her.

Shoulders sagging at the silence that greets her, Rachel turns over away from Quinn, defeated. "I knew this was a bad idea," she mumbles. She shuts her eyes tightly and curls her body into itself, almost forming a ball, not even wanting to be bothered.

Quinn looks to her then. She really hates when Rachel is mad at her. Turning towards her, she tentatively reaches a hand out to lightly touch her arm. She's slowly learning that just because she's not good with words or her feelings sometimes doesn't mean she has the right to be closed off all the time.

She curls herself against Rachel's back as an apology for the things she can't say yet. And Rachel grabs the arm around her and holds it tightly to her body as an acceptance of Quinn's apology.

Neither one has what can necessarily be called adequate sleep, but at least it's something.

* * *

><p>"Quinn, I have to leave in approximately ten minutes. Can you please hurry?"<p>

Rachel scrambles to put on her heels as she briskly walks into Quinn's living room. They had overslept and she's trying her hardest not to be late to the airport.

Quinn walks into the living room a little wide eyed. "I can't go with you."

Completely caught off guard, Rachel's entire body spins to meet her. "Why?"

Quinn steps up to her. "We're together now, Rachel. And we both know that it can't be public. If I go out to the airport with you and we do something that can be used as—"

"Then we won't do anything," Rachel rushes out. "We don't have to hug or kiss in public. We can do it here. I just want to see you for as long as I can before I have to leave."

Quinn doesn't generally think of herself as a sap, not by any means. Quite the opposite in fact. But Rachel has a way of melting her heart in only a way that she can. Before she can even blink, she has Rachel wrapped in her arms.

She inhales the scent of apples deeply. "For the record I don't think this is a good idea."

"I know," sounds Rachel's muffled voice.

"I mean, it's a really stupid idea."

"I get it."

She pulls back with a smile. "But I'll go."

Rachel enjoys the intense and passionate moments they have together, but it's moments like these that are light hearted that really steal her breath away.

"We're alright, aren't we?" Quinn asks her quietly. "I mean…with last night and with us."

Truth is that Rachel had barely thought about the night before since she's woken up. Well, that's not completely true. She thought about what she and Quinn did, but the awkwardness that occurred afterwards didn't cross her mind. "Everything is fine, Quinn," she says sincerely.

"And you…" Her brow furrows. "You enjoyed it, right?"

Rachel flushes slightly. "I think you were a firsthand witness as to how much I enjoyed it," she tells her quietly.

"Good." She hugs her tightly again, knowing that any moment Rachel's going to have to pull away and they're going to have to leave.

"I love you," Rachel whispers into the crook of Quinn's neck.

She shivers a little before her lips brush Rachel's temple. "I love you, too."

"We're going to be okay," Rachel tells her. Quinn hadn't realized that her apprehension was so noticeable. "I'll be back really soon."

"I hope so."

* * *

><p>Santana listens carefully as their flight is called. "Come on, Berry. It's time to go."<p>

Just as she promised, Quinn is there, sitting across from Rachel. They'd been there for about fifteen minutes and exchanged a few words but Quinn didn't dare sit beside her.

Rachel looks toward her before taking a stand. "I guess I'll see you when I get back," she mumbles quietly. The sadness in her voice makes Quinn want to reach out and smooth the bangs from her face before taking her into a hug.

"Yeah," is all she manages to choke out.

Rachel looks into her eyes then, a little sad, a little defiant. "Quinn, I—" She looks around her and for the first time she notices just how crowded the airport is. Her aviators, dressed down appearance, and baseball cap can only go so far and she knows that there is at least one person in the sea of people that knows exactly who she is.

Quinn watches the stubbornness in Rachel's posture. "Get on the plane," she tells her quietly, but leaves no room for arguing, knowing the dramatic brunette is about to cause a scene. "We've already said these things, so there's no need to do it again."

Her eyes narrow at Quinn's tone but she knows Quinn is right. Before she knows what's happening, Santana is pulling on her arm and she's getting farther and farther from Quinn. She turns back to stare at her for as long as she can.

And Quinn never stops watching her, either. She thinks it's poetic justice to know how much it hurts to watch Rachel leave her just as she had left Rachel all those years ago. When Rachel disappears behind a gate and is lead outside, Quinn walks toward the huge airport windows, standing there for the entire thirty minutes that it takes for Rachel's plane to finally take flight and for her own heart to plummet.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q. 

* * *

><p>Her day has been awful already. Not only did she toss and turn the night before because she's gotten so used to cuddling with Rachel in bed that she couldn't sleep without her. But the two hours of sleep that she did manage to get had her waking up to a blaring alarm clock and no Rachel.<p>

Her morning was a blur because she doesn't deem it too important to remember. She's sure she ate at some point and there was coffee involved. But nothing else particularly mattered.

Now she's sitting at her computer, in her office, checking any important emails before logging off. The day is almost over and it's Friday so she's looking forward to not having to come back to work the next day.

She gets a memo about how Rachel's first few shows were a success. It's been a week and she's only been able to talk to her girlfriend three times. She's counted.

One time was when Rachel arrived in her first city. She called Quinn to tell her that she'd made it safely. Another call was right after a performance and there were so many people in the background that Quinn could barely hear her. Plus, Rachel panting with exertion from her previous performance into the phone was admittedly distracting, which then became frustrating. And the last call was right before a show and Rachel had been rushed off the phone, giving Quinn a hurried _"I love you_._"_

After reviewing that email about how much money Rachel was able to earn for herself as well as the company, she shuts down her computer before leaving her office. Another day.

On her way out she sees Kurt and Mercedes gossiping. She rolls her eyes and continues walking but a whisper of her girlfriend's name makes her shoulders draw tight. It literally makes her stop in her tracks and she has to take deep breaths to calm herself. Calm again, she takes a half step forward before she hears Rachel's name being mentioned again. Before she knows it, she's face to face with Kurt.

"What are you guys talking about?" she asks, trying for casualness.

Kurt's expression is speculative at best as he watches her carefully. "There's a rumor about Rachel going around," he says as he sweeps his side bangs from his face.

"Yeah?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

He hands her an article that he'd been reading and waits for her reaction.

Quinn's eyes bulge. And Kurt may be imagining this, but he thinks he sees a vein in her forehead pulsing. She doesn't say anything, just hands the paper back. "I'll see you Monday," she tells them both in a faux-cheerful voice. Kurt and Mercedes exchange knowing glances as Quinn walks off. 

* * *

><p>Her day has been awful already. Not only is she in a city that she's never been to, miles away from Quinn, but she also hasn't talked to her girlfriend much all week and she really misses her. Three phone calls that all total twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds. She's counted. And on top of everything, her throat is sore. She's been freaking out about it all day.<p>

Her last show of the night is over and she walks towards her tour bus before climbing in and crashing very unlady-like on a nearby couch. It's only been a week and she's exhausted.

Laying down, her eyes slip shut as she thinks of Quinn. As soon as her thoughts fall to Quinn she bolts upright in her seat and searches for her phone.

"Don't bother calling her, Berry," Santana calls to her, walking onto the bus. "We have tour matters to discuss."

She makes a face but scoots over on the couch to allow room for Santana. Once Santana is seated, she reaches into her back pocket and removes a piece of paper. "There are rumors," is all she says.

Rachel internally groans. "Already?" She grabs the piece of paper and opens it, gawking at the words she reads. Her back is rigid as she takes a stand "'Rachel Berry and her backstage rendezvous'? This has to be slander!"

"I have a team of lawyers looking into it already. It's not guaranteed that this is illegal, but we're looking into it." Although she wants to make a wise crack about how much of a pimp the media wrongly paints Rachel as, Santana bites her tongue, trying to remember that Rachel isn't really used to this.

Her eyes narrow as they continue to scan the paper. "But…Quinn? My reputation? I am not _easy_! Just because a woman manages to outsmart security and make it to my dressing room wearing revealing clothes does _not_ in any way mean that I'm just going to _bed _her." Her thoughts are scattered as she tries to understand this. "Quinn hasn't seen this, has she?"

Santana tries not to laugh at Rachel's dramatic behavior. "As your active A&R I'm sure Quinn has heard of these rumors. She's probably read this long before you have."

All the color drains from Rachel's face. Quinn would see this, _has _seen this? As if they don't already have enough on their plate. This time she does groan, placing her hand on her forehead. "I am usually never one to take pity on myself, but allow me this one indulgence. Why me, Santana?"

At this Santana does laugh. Hard. And Rachel frowns as she glares at her, not seeing the slightest thing funny about this situation. She calms down and wipes a tear from her eye. "Berry, I think you create your own drama."

"But if she sees this article the ramifications will be enormous. You do not understand the fragility of my relationship with Quinn, nor do you understand how this tour may have already compromised what I have with her."

Santana sighs, finally taking mercy on her friend. She doesn't know Quinn well at all, but from a few brief meetings with her that involved talking about Rachel's career. But from what she's seen, Santana can acknowledge a bit of herself in Quinn. Strong, independent, a bit aloof at times. But she can also recognize that there's more under the surface. If there wasn't then Santana doesn't think Rachel would be putting so much time and effort into her former girlfriend that ran away on their past relationship.

"Tell me this," Santana says. "Does Quinn share?"

Rachel's brow furrows. "Your statement is implying that I'm some sort of possession or commodity. I am not—"

"Please," she scoffs. "As if you don't find the idea of belonging to someone appealing. It doesn't make you any less of a woman. It just means that at the end of a long hard day you like to curl up into Quinn's arms," she teases.

She flushes slightly but shakes her head, mumbling, "No, she doesn't like to share."

"Then do you really think that she'd let you go just because of some rumors? Or do you think she'd kick whatever girl's ass that you're supposedly sleeping with?"

Rachel smiles a little. "She is a fan of brute force at times."

"Well then there's your answer. Quinn might be pissed about these rumors, but tell her that they're just that. Rumors. There's no truth to them."

She smiles brightly before standing up and grabbing a towel across the room. "Is that all we have to discuss?" she asks as she rubs the towel across her neck and forehead. She'll have to take a shower to wash the icky feeling off later.

"No," Santana responds as she leans back against the couch, checking her phone. "We have to discuss the length of your tour."

Rachel turns to her with a quizzical expression. "But I thought that I had two months to do this tour."

Santana sighs as she levels Rachel with a gaze. "I thought so, too. But I got a message this morning from President Sylvester. She's added another month."

Her mouth falls open in shock. There is no way. "I do not understand. Why do I have another month? Wasn't the agreement two months?" Rachel will agree that three months guarantees more success for the tour, but…she wants to be near Quinn. And the deal was two months then she'd be able to go home to her.

Santana shrugs. "Apparently Winner's Victory's resident artist, Will, is teaming up with two artists Quinn discovered. Their names are Finn and Jesse, if I remember correctly. Anyway, they're creating a band called Nude Erections and Sue wants them in the studio as soon as possible to record an album so that she can capitalize on the boy band craze that's going around."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me." Rachel's face is stuck on permanent confusion and shock. This is new for her. She's rarely confused and it's hard to surprise her so she doesn't appreciate this one bit.

"You were scheduled to be in the studio before them. But Sue switched the order. Now you have an extra month to tour while Nude Erections swaps spots with you in the studio." Santana's tone becomes a bit edgier. She finds the name stupid and is honestly sick of saying it.

Rachel nods, starting to comprehend. "If studio time is that big of a problem then why can't I just record in a studio in New York? Or anywhere else that has a good studio for that matter."

"Because," Santana drawls, already bored with the conversation and thinking of calling Brittany. "Sue thinks you'll have a 'home court advantage' if you record at the studio in LA. The terminology that woman uses," she grumbles. "It's like she used to be a coach or something."

When Rachel's frown slips into a pout, Santana's eyes widen. "Okay, no. You're not going to sit here and whine to me. We'll be at your hotel in five minutes. Then you can eat, shower, and call Quinn to bitch to her about this."

Rachel folds her arms across her chest but nods. 

* * *

><p>With well practiced ease, Puck is able to quietly unlock Quinn's door and slip inside. He briefly indulges the thought that if Quinn really has a gun like she says she does, then one day she may think he's a burglar and shoot first then ask questions later.<p>

His worse fears are confirmed once he creeps to her room undetected. She's under a mound of covers. The only thing visible is a long, blonde ponytail. He groans internally, wondering if Rachel made Quinn this dramatic, then remembering Quinn has a flare of dramatic that's all her own.

"Are you naked under there? 'Cause if you are I'm going to join you in about two minutes."

He gets his desired reaction. Quinn lifts her head to sit up, glaring at him while hugging the blankets to her to suggest that she is, in fact, naked.

Shaking his head, he walks over to her armoire to retrieve a robe for her. He hands it to her and stares. She glares harder and motions for him to turn around so she can put the robe on without his prying eyes. He sighs as if put off and turns around.

Once she's properly dressed, he lies in bed beside her. "So, if Berry saw us cuddling?" he starts.

She almost laughs. "Well I could probably get away with a thorough lecture on proper committed relationship etiquette." She spares Puck a glance. "She'd kill you though."

He scoots a little further away, still afraid of Rachel.

"It's a Friday night, Q. Are you really going to spend it in bed?"

"I don't want to go out," she says quietly. "I don't want to do much of anything."

He tilts his head in an attempt to figure her out. "What's wrong with you? I get that you're upset about Rachel being gone but this is extreme."

She looks at him for a long time before she speaks. "I heard some rumors about Rachel today," she tells him.

"What kind of rumors?" he asks carefully, realizing that this has the potential to be serious.

"Rumors about her sleeping with groupies after concerts."

His eyes narrow and lose focus as if he doesn't understand. Then he replies. "Oh."

Quinn licks her lips nervously, not liking his short response at all. "You don't think…" She pauses. "You don't think the rumors are true, right?" she asks with uncertainty.

He looks at her seriously as she gathers her sheet around her body before sitting up. He sits up with her. "Do I think that women work hard to get past security to get a piece of her? Fuck yeah. She's a hot piece of ass, Q. And on top of that, she's famous. Those women are crafty. I bet at least five make it past security. And every once in a while, at least one makes it to her dressing room."

Her brow furrows as the information sinks in. "Why are you even here?" she grumbles, jealousy, sadness, and anger gripping her heart.

Puck laughs a little before wrapping a reassuring arm around her. "Because I'm your best friend," he tells her. "And that includes telling you the truth, even when you don't want to hear it."

"Well then what are you saying?" she snaps, sitting up and moving away from him. "That Rachel is fucking multiple women per city?"

"No," he responds calmly, completely used to her fits. "I'm just telling you that women are going to tempt her. Hell, they tempt _us. _You remember how much I used to use the fact that I worked at a record label to get laid. But she's crazy about you," he says quietly. "And I honestly believe that no matter how many groupies come her way, she'll be faithful."

Quinn thinks it over, agreeing that Rachel is possibly the most loyal person she's ever met. She smiles at that, relieved. "My girlfriend isn't crazy."

"For putting up with you?" he questions with a snort. "Hell yeah she is. But I bet that crazy makes for some kinky sex though, right?"

She makes a face and Puck laughs loudly. "You haven't fucked her yet, have you?"

"Not exactly," she says with a grimace.

He nods, as if he understands, and pulls her back into a hug. "Have you at least used one Rachel Berry to achieve sexual gratification of some sort?" he asks, trying to sound clinical.

"You're getting off on this," she deadpans.

His lecherous grin goes undetected. "I'm just curious."

"Yes."

He smiles wider. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I did."

When Puck goes uncharacteristically quiet for someone that loves talking about sex, Quinn looks up at him. He has that faux-pout on his face that he's convinced drives women crazy. That pout would resemble Rachel, when she doesn't get her way, if it wasn't so cheesy. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…" He trails off as he looks away. "You never got a happy when _we _had sex," he tells her, feigning hurt.

She bites her lip to keep from laughing. "Yeah, well. Apparently I'm only attracted to women. Sorry. Besides, I think you came enough for us both," she shoots back, taking a stab at how quickly he finished.

His mouth falls open at that. He had explained this to her several times. It's not his fault that alcohol lowers his performance. "I've already explained this," he tells her seriously, then smiles crookedly. "Besides, you're really hot, Q. I would have been doing you a disservice by not coming."

She sighs in annoyance before elbowing him in the gut. He ignores it, pretending to check her out. "Shit, you look hot today, too."

"If I feel your dick against me at any point I'm kicking you out."

He discretely angles his hips away from her before grumbling, "You weren't saying that a year ago."

She laughs because, well, it's true. After a little more talking Puck escorts himself out, telling Quinn to give Rachel a call. 

* * *

><p>She enters her room after a shower and has high plans of calling Rachel once she's finished dressing, but the other woman beats her to it. The song <em>Faithfully <em>suddenly plays in her room and she wraps herself in her favorite robe before walking over to her nightstand and retrieving her phone. Rachel insisted before she left for tour that she have the ringtone and Quinn suspects it's her ringtone when she calls as well.

"Hello," she murmurs into the phone before reclining on her bed. It smells like cheap cologne. Puck. She almost gags, making a mental note to change the sheets later.

The somewhat subdued, yet still high pitched words of, _"Hi, Quinn" _reach her ears and suddenly her day is a lot better.

"Hey, baby." She speaks the words into the phone like it's the most natural thing in the world. The crazy part is it's starting to be.

Rachel giggles, a little impressed. Some time apart has been good for Quinn. _"I miss you. How was your day?"_

When Rachel asks about her day she's put in the mind of the rumors she's heard. And really, Quinn doesn't want to cause any tension between the two of them, especially with Rachel being so far away. But she just has to know.

"Are they true?" she asks abruptly

She hears Rachel sigh, alerting her to the fact that she knows what she's talking about and apparently doesn't want to talk about it. _"They are not true," _she tells Quinn quietly but firmly.

"Are you sure?"

"_I think I would remember if I…engaged in intercourse with another woman after one of my shows."_

Quinn breathes a small, relieved laugh at Rachel's smart ass answer. "And you'd tell me if you did."

"_The fact that you would think otherwise is admittedly, a tad hurtful," _she jokes, and Quinn can hear the smile in her voice as well as picture it in her head. _"But in any case, you have nothing to worry about. I love you, Quinn. And as far as relationships are concerned, I'm monogamous."_

"Oh, really?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

"_Well, I have you tattooed on a rib. I hardly think many women would want to tap this when they see it."_

She laughs loudly at that and it's the most beautiful song Rachel's ever heard. "You never cease to amaze me, Rachel," she breathes into the phone.

"_That's why you love me."_

"It is," she says quietly.

"_Quinn," _Rachel says just as quietly. _"I really miss you and touring for a full extra month has to be some form of cruel and unusual punishment. Don't get me wrong, I understand the successes and monetary gain that is to be well, _gained _from touring for an extra month but that doesn't change the fact that—"_

"Wait a minute," Quinn says as she sits up in bed, hearing Rachel huff at being cut off. "You're touring for an extra month? Who told you that and when did you find out?"

The detected edginess to Quinn's voice makes Rachel shrink a bit, knowing that her girlfriend was two seconds away from being angry with someone. _"Santana told me this morning. She said President Sylvester left a message on her voicemail about it."_

"Why wouldn't Sue just ask me to do it?" she asks herself quietly, befuddled.

"_Perhaps you were just busy, Quinn."_

"But it's my job," she says firmly. "That was my job to do and the fact the Sue didn't have me do it or even run the idea by me is strange."

Her commanding tone is enough to force them both into silence. Quinn hears nothing on the other end of the phone, but she's too busy worrying about Rachel being gone for another whole month to say anything.

Not only was this not a part of the deal, but it's going to be hell at the label to pick more cities for her to go to _and _to sell more tickets. And on top of that it's _her _job to do it. Or at least it should be. But she's not sure what this whole Sue thing is about.

"_I have a surprise for you," _a small voice says.

She sighs as she slouches back against her bed. "What is it?"

"_It's a girlfriend t-shirt!" _she says cheerfully. _"One says 'My girlfriend is cute' and the other says 'My girlfriend is hot.'"_

Quinn makes a noncommittal sound, lost in her own thoughts and not really in the mood to play.

"_Quinn."_ Rachel's voice wafts to her ear. _"I'm trying. The least you can do is meet me halfway."_

She's silent for a moment, rubbing her forehead. Her situation is not ideal in the slightest and as much as it pisses her off, it doesn't do her or Rachel any good for her to mope around.

"Which one do I get?"

"_You get to pick the one you want," _she says with a smile.

"I want the one that says 'My girlfriend is cute.'"

She hears Rachel giggle again. _"You think I'm cute, Quinn?"_

"No. I just think I'm hot," she says with a smirk, laughing when she hears Rachel whine like a five year old on the other line.

They manage to talk for another hour, light arguing on Quinn's part and a bit of innuendo on Rachel's. But when Quinn hangs up the phone to go to bed, she's more in love than she's ever been. 

* * *

><p>Therapy sessions aren't what they used to be. With Rachel gone, Quinn has a hard time finding the motivation.<p>

"How are you today, Quinn?" Emma asks, already detecting how unwilling her patient is today from her posture. Body language is just as important when dealing with a patient as the words coming from their mouth is.

"I'm fine," Quinn says gruffly as she looks out of a nearby window.

"Is work treating you well?"

"Yeah."

"Anything you want to discuss?"

"No."

Emma nods and decides to try a different tactic. "How's Rachel?"

It works. Quinn turns to her and Emma watches as her jaw tightens, choosing her words carefully before they spew from her mouth. "Rachel's been given an extra month to tour."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Her eyes harden. "For the label? No. But for us, for what we have? Yes."

"I think," Emma says quietly, "that sometimes we have to play the waiting game, Quinn. If Rachel is worth having in your life then she's well worth the wait that it takes until she comes off tour. Wouldn't you agree?"

"But." Her jaw tightens again. "I miss her."

Emma smiles gently. "I know. And I know that therapy is difficult to do when the one motivation that you had to do it is gone. But she'll be back. Two weeks is already over with. I'm sure this tour will fly by fast."

She lets Emma's words soak in and she steels herself against the next few weeks without Rachel. She's Quinn Fabray, not some love sick school girl. She can, should, and _will _survive this. 

* * *

><p>"Have a seat, Quinn," Sue tells her as she takes off a large pair of headphones.<p>

Quinn's steps seem to stutter as she walks towards a chair opposite Sue and sits in it. She folds her hands neatly in her lap and tries to keep the anxiety from her posture as she looks the taller blonde directly in the eye.

"Well, Quinn, I'll make this quick." She leans forward on her desk and furrows her brow to try to look as intimidating as possible. "You're fired."

It doesn't register at first. But when it does, Quinn's eyes bulge out of her head. "What? Excuse me? President Sylvester, you can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am." She gets up from her chair and walks over to a radio in the corner of her room. Fishing out a small cassette tape from her pocket, she turns to Quinn. "Have you heard this?" She places the tape into her radio as she waits for Quinn to respond.

Her blonde hair swooshes from left to right as she shakes her head. "No. Should I know what that is?"

"This," she says quietly, "is the reason why you're fired. It's a short audio so pay attention."

Quinn can barely stop her heart from beating so fast and Sue wants her to pay attention? She's worked her ass off at this company for years now and she can't for the life of her figure out why she's being fired.

"_Let's not forget that we have the wonderful Miss. Rachel Berry in the studio with us. Now, Rachel, your female fan base is dying to know, are you single?"_

Quinn looks toward the radio playing as her heart thuds to a stop. Shit. Rachel is indeed fairly new to the entertainment industry, but Quinn knows that she's been around long enough to know not to name drop.

Sue looks at her with a mixture of triumph and arrogance. And if this situation wasn't so important, Quinn would scoff under her breath. Sue likes to win.

She waits with baited breath as Rachel replies.

"_While I do not normally like to make my private business public, I will simply say that I do have a girlfriend."_

The tape shuts off and the room is silent. Quinn takes a deep breath as she forces herself to meet Sue's piercing gaze. "I don't understand what our newest artist having a girlfriend has to do with me getting fired."

She crosses her arms, and rolls back her shoulders, eyes searching for something she knows she'll find. "Look me in the eye…and tell me that our newest artist, someone on our very _label_ isn't your girlfriend."

Quinn eyes her defiantly, anger flaring within her. Admitting her relationship with Rachel would without a doubt have her in the unemployment line. Denying her relationship would secure a job that Quinn can't really say she loves. It's fun and it occupies her time. Not to mention how important the money is. But she…she thinks she's crazy when she replies. "I can't say that…"

Sue's eyes narrow. "Look me in the eye and tell me that our newest artist _is_ your girlfriend."

Quinn shakes her head at the absurdity of the situation she's in. After spending seven years purging her mind, heart and body of Rachel, she's being asked to admit, to more or less a complete stranger, something that she's fought against for so long. But she also has to admit…it's not that hard. "Rachel is my girlfriend," she says, almost rebelliously. "And if you have a problem with that then you can—"

"Do you know why I'm firing you, Quinn?"

Said woman slumps back against her seat with a defeated look on her face. "It doesn't look good for the label," she says.

Sue nods. "But think outside the label for a second. Think about your short girlfriend. Do you really think it's good for her to be linked to an A&R?"

Before Quinn can respond Sue cuts her off. "Rachel will be linked to you, then you will be linked to a record label. And it doesn't matter that it's my record label. You could be working for a label anywhere from here to William's cheap, Backstreet Boys hair gel, but the results will be the same."

Again she opens her mouth and is cut off. "It will be called into question whether or not Rachel had sex with you to get on this label," she says gravely. "Sex is the age old trick to humiliate and embarrass a person. I would know. I've done it before with a man named Figgins." She sees Quinn raise a curious eyebrow. "Don't ask. The point is it will be used whether it's the truth or not. If you're a nobody, say a sales person at a local store, then no one will look twice at you for dating Rachel. But if you're an A&R, _her _A&R, then you both will be put through hell."

Quinn sits there, swallowing a bitter pill. It's not like this moment hasn't crossed her mind. Somewhere outside of her thoughts of Rachel, she's considered the possibility of getting fired if anyone found out about this. She just didn't think it'd be this soon.

"What gave me away?" she asks quietly, angrily, resigned. Silently plotting revenge against Kurt and Mercedes because she knows they know.

She watches guardedly as Sue scrutinizes her for a second. Her hands begin to fidget a bit but she doesn't dare break eye contact. "You're happy," Sue says simply. "And in the few years you've been working here I've never seen you happy, Quinn."

The answer catches her off guard and her mouth flies open in shock. Not only is she easy to read, but Sue watches her closely.

"So, I'm letting you go," she continues. "If I wanted someone on my label that would compromise it then I would have signed that kid in the wheelchair with suspenders and glasses last week."

Quinn nods dumbly, not entirely sure what's left for her to say at the moment.

"For the record, Quinn, I'm happy for you." Quinn nods, breathing a heavy sigh.

"Good," Sue says quietly. "Now get out of my office."

Quinn bites her tongue as she stands up from her seat and walks to the door and opens it. "Wait just a second, Quinn. Now that I think about it, I have one more job for you."

She spins around quickly, eyes narrowed. "And why would I do a last job for you when you just fired me?" she asks.

Sue's smug expression sort of pisses her off. "For two reasons. One because I'll pay you for it," she says with a predatory smile. "And two, because I think you'll personally enjoy this job."

Looking into her eyes, Quinn sees a certain trust in them. She's angry at Sue right now for firing her, only to ask her to do another job minutes later. Not to mention the fact that Sue often times insults her employees on a regular basis. But she's been a great employer and Quinn can distance herself from the situation enough to respect Sue for saving her and Rachel from what would surely be a future run-in with the press and paparazzi.

She closes the door behind her and steps further into Sue's office to get details for her final job as an A&R. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q. 

* * *

><p>Quinn walks toward the exit of the airport, scowling at Puck for constantly making fun of her the entire plane ride.<p>

"Listen, Q, if you like the ladies as much as I do I'm not gonna judge you," he intones in a teasing manner. "I just ask that you not check out the stewardess that was only trying to give you a bag of peanuts."

She spins on her heel quickly and comes face to face with him. "Shut up," she hisses. "I wasn't checking her out. _You _were the one that offered to replace the 'sack of nuts' she had in her hand with two of your own."

Puck smirks down at her, mostly proud that he was able to think of such a clever joke. Quinn makes a disgusted sound as she turns around once more to walk off toward the exit.

"Wait up," Puck calls after her. "You need to get your bags."

"You get them," she calls over her shoulder, making this a punishment for his constant taunting.

They make it to a taxi and climb in the back seat after depositing their belongings in the trunk. "Okay," Puck starts with his business voice. "What is our mission?"

"It's a job, Puck," she replies sarcastically. "You aren't Buzz Lightyear. You don't have missions."

"Fine," he concedes. "What's our job? Though it's more like _my _job. You got fired."

Her head tilts as if to say 'touché', surprisingly not angry at the playful jab. Since she's been fired, Quinn hasn't given her job much thought. She's aware that she's unemployed and well aware that something needs to be done soon. But she also feels as if this imaginary weight has been lifted and she's more relieved than anything.

"We're here to scout talent. And get reacquainted with Finn and Jesse to talk to them about the recording process and what sound we're looking for from them."

"_And_?" Puck asks obnoxiously.

Quinn grits her teeth. "And to assist Rachel with her tour."

"_And?_"

"Will you quit saying it like that," she commands. Once his question sinks in she looks at him with bewilderment. "And what?"

"We're also here to get you laid."

Her mouth opens, jaw working back and forth before she closes her mouth, deciding not to say whatever she had been thinking of and instead saying, "I'm not talking to you for the rest of this trip unless it's absolutely necessary." She turns toward the window, allowing his words to soak in. The last time she and Rachel even came close to sex it ended in an awkward disaster. She doesn't want to think about that.

"I mean, it has been a long time for you."

"Puck."

He ignores her. "The better part of a year, I'd say."

"Shut _up_!" 

* * *

><p>Three fingers gently press against her throat, massaging the muscle in an attempt to alleviate the dry burning feeling that's causing her slight cough.<p>

"Drink this tea," Santana orders brusquely as she hands Rachel a steaming mug of herbal tea.

Rachel nods, grabbing the cup and blowing gently across the top before taking a careful sip. Her small cold is progressing slowly and Santana has to hear about it every five minutes.

"You're still going on tonight," she informs Rachel, the palm of her hand resting gently against her forehead. "You don't have a fever," she muses to herself. "I would say lie down. You have a couple more hours before you go on."

"You know," Rachel starts mysteriously, "I think that this is all romantic."

"The hell are you talking about, Berry?" Santana asks her incredulously. "Are you delusional? Should I check your temperature with a thermometer?"

Rachel frowns at her disapprovingly before replying. "I mean the fact that I'm sick. I rarely get sick, Santana. In fact, I have never had a case of the chicken pox. Something the vast majority of Americans get as infants and children the ages of one to four commonly—"

"Is there a point to this?"

"My point is that I miss Quinn. My body is essentially malfunctioning because I miss the one I love. I have been sad and moping and now my physical state matches my emotional one. Several books have been written around the subject of the way the body strangely yet accurately reacts to the notion of love and loss."

Santana's brow furrows. What the hell is Rachel talking about? She shakes her head, wondering how anyone could believe in such foolishness. "Fascinating."

"I just miss her," Rachel says softly.

"I know you miss her. Don't you think I miss B?" Santana replies, gentling her voice. "But think about it. A month down, two more to go."

Rachel grimaces. That somehow doesn't manage to make her feel any better.

"Sleep it off," Santana tells her before handing her a blanket. "Lie down on the couch and sleep because we won't be in Illinois for another two hours." 

* * *

><p>Quinn sighs softly as she stands on the balcony of the hotel room she and Puck sleep in. Puck told a guy at the front desk that he and Quinn only needed one bed and it took Quinn an hour to finally get a room with two beds. She looks out toward a golf course several yards away, thinking.<p>

She's happy. From any and every angle she looks at, from any viewpoint she tries to switch it to, she's happy. But she can't help but have this nagging feeling in the back of her mind. And she's not sure what it is yet. She just knows that in order for her to fully be happy with Rachel and without this weird feeling, something needs to be done.

"You still do the creepy spacing out thing, huh?"

Her laugh is quiet and reserved as she continues to look in the same direction. "How many times do I have to tell you to shut up, Puck?" 

* * *

><p>Rachel grabs a towel from her body guard, murmuring a quiet thank you as she slings it across the back of her neck. Her eyes are bright, shoulders high, and steps light. Performances always give her an irrefutable high that leaves her unsatisfied when they're over. The lights are off, the fans are gone, and she's left with so much energy and no outlet.<p>

She walks with the same pep in her step to her dressing room, fully prepared to change clothes, get food, go to her hotel and call Quinn before going to bed.

Her hand grasps the door knob, turns it, and pushes the door open. Flicking on the lights, she's met with…another woman. Rachel's jaw drops. Despite the fact that a similar situation has happened once before, it still takes her by surprise. And although Rachel can certainly appreciate her fan's enthusiasm, it's a bit jarring when things like this happen.

Luckily she has a speech prepared. After the first fiasco she made sure to write out and memorize well developed thoughts to handle any similar situations swiftly and effectively.

"Good evening, I'm Rachel Berry." Introducing oneself is important. "I am not aware of who you are, however, I think that you should be aware that backstage, specifically my dressing room, is reserved for authorized personnel. Now if you ventured back here for an autograph, I'd be more than happy to provide one. Outside of my dressing room." She takes a much needed breath and awaits her guest's response.

"I'm not here for an autograph," the woman responds lowly.

Rachel's exhales harshly. She knows the woman isn't in her room for an autograph. One look at her outfit—a black and red bustier that has her cleavage spilling—and Rachel knows what the woman wants.

And if she's truthful, she wants something similar. The energy and performance high that she's feeling right now can easily be transformed into sexual tension, if the right person presented themselves. But alas, the right person isn't in her room.

"I'm well aware of what you came here for," Rachel replies warily, dropping her façade. "However, I do not engage in such acts with people I do not know."

The woman walks toward Rachel, making sure to sway her hips. "We can get to know each other if that helps," she responds, eyelids lowering as she walks to stand closer.

"I have a girlfriend," she tries again. "And I honestly believe that if she were to find you here—"

"She'd be really pissed."

The tone of voice registers before the actual words do and Rachel spins on her heel to see Quinn in her doorway. "Quinn! I-I—this isn't what it looks like!" She actually winces at how cliché it sounds.

Completely ignoring her name being called and the explanation, Quinn trains hard eyes on the scantily clad woman in her girlfriend's dressing room. Jealously courses through her and her mouth opens before she can think better of it. "How did you even get past security?" she asks callously. She doesn't even wait for the woman to respond. "Leave. Or I'll have you brought up on harassment charges." The woman stares at Quinn's hands, noticing how her fingers curl and uncurl before balling into fists.

Rachel watches with wide eyes as the once confident woman seems to wither under Quinn's glare before carefully walking past her and out of the dressing room. Quinn closes the door soundly, locking it. She turns toward Rachel with an unreadable expression.

Rachel stares at Quinn with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. What is she even doing here? She takes in the flowy, powder blue dress she's wearing and her straightened hair, smoothly framing her pale face. She swallows thickly.

"You look gorgeous, Quinn," Rachel breathes, completely enamored.

Quinn colors slightly, her sudden shyness a stark contrast to her hardened features. "Who was that woman?"

"I haven't the slightest clue who she was."

"Okay," she says tightly. "What did she want?"

Rachel rocks back on her heels, wondering if this is really going to be a problem for them. Quinn's been here all of five minutes and already there's something wrong. She peers up at Quinn seriously, both knowing exactly what that woman wanted. "Don't you trust me?" she asks mournfully.

Quinn stares right through her, looking for something. She knows that there's really no reason for her not to trust Rachel. If anyone is a loyal and faithful individual, it's Rachel Berry. The woman has morals and she sticks by them.

During the tense silence that hangs between them Rachel almost panics. But the whispered, "I trust you," saves her the heart ache.

She beams at her, proud to have Quinn's trust, something that was never easily given by Quinn.

Stepping toward her once again, she easily slips her arms around Quinn's waist. "I've missed you," she murmurs, relieved that the crisis was averted or rather, easily dealt with.

Quinn places a light kiss against her temple. "Missed you, too."

Rachel pulls back, eyes hooded as she looks Quinn up and down. "You really do look beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispers as she looks down at Rachel.

Her hands slide through Quinn's silky hair and before either of them know what's happening, Rachel's lips have claimed Quinn's own. It ends up being far more needy than she intended it to be, her tongue easily sliding in Quinn's mouth to duel with her own. The pent up energy she was feeling earlier now being transferred into something else.

She's forced to stop when Quinn grabs her hips and pushes her back lightly. Her face is flushed and she's panting as light kisses are placed on her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. "Quinn?" she whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Not that I don't find this enjoyable," she continues, smiling when she feels Quinn nuzzle her neck, "And not that I'm not thoroughly enjoying your presence but I have to ask. What are you doing here?"

"Work," Quinn mumbles distractedly.

"What kind of work?" she inquires further, clutching Quinn to her.

Quinn sighs as she pulls back. Her job, or lack thereof, isn't something she really wants to talk about and leave it to Rachel to ruin the mood by bringing it up. She stares down at her with mild trepidation. "I'm here to help you with the tour since you're technically still a new artist," she tells her.

"And this is the only reason you are here?"

Quinn shrugs, mildly nervous. "Why else would I be here?"

"Nothing." Rachel smiles before leaning in to kiss her again. She walks back to her dresser, preparing to change clothes before leaving, ignoring the small part of her brain telling her to inquire further about why Quinn's here and just enjoys her girlfriend's presence after a month without her.

"You can have a seat on the couch over there, Quinn," Rachel tells her, pointing to the couch through the mirror she's staring at.

Quinn obeys, walking back toward the couch before sitting down, eyes trained on Rachel intently. And Rachel almost smirks as she lifts her shirt off of her head.

She tosses it carelessly, too focused on Quinn to actually fold it neatly like she would have otherwise done. Her mind races, reliving simpler times when she would jokingly call Quinn her number one fan, alluding to her future stardom, right before they made love. She thinks of how hot it made Quinn when she whispered those three words in her ear after the accompanied by the word _my. _Heat pools in the pit of her stomach at the thought that in this scenario her number one fan has a backstage pass and access to things that makes Rachel flush just thinking about it.

For Quinn, this is partly strange, partly arousing. Strange because months ago, she wouldn't have dared watch Rachel _strip _for her or at all for that matter. Yet here she is, in her dressing room, watching her peel off what happens to be a very tight pair of jeans. Quinn thinks that skirts on Rachel are great, but the surprise of jeans is welcome.

When Rachel hooks her fingers into her lace panties Quinn actually gasps. She hasn't seen Rachel fully naked in years. And right now she's a little confused as to if she even wants to see her naked now.

Rachel hears her but doesn't bother turning around, meeting Quinn's eyes through the mirror. "Do you really need to take those off?" Quinn asks hoarsely.

A small blush colors Rachel's cheeks, but not at the possibility of being naked. "I like to sing," she responds quietly as her eyes leave Quinn's own.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Rachel levels Quinn with a telling gaze. "I really like to sing," she reiterates. "So, yes. I need to remove them."

Now it's Quinn blushing and averting her gaze, finally understanding what Rachel means. It makes sense…in a Rachel kind of way. She's really passionate about singing, so it would make sense for her to—

Quinn shakes her head, leaving those thoughts. And although she's a little nervous, a little uncomfortable, her eyes keep finding Rachel. Logically speaking, she reasons that if she wants to be with Rachel as much as she does, and if she wants Rachel sexually the way she does, then seeing her naked is practically a prerequisite.

Despite whatever anxiousness Quinn has, Rachel removes them anyway. They pool around her feet and her chest heaves as she looks down at them. She's honestly a little afraid of how Quinn's going to react.

She swallows thickly, heart palpitating. When Rachel's panties fell, Quinn's gaze fell with them. She, unbeknownst to Rachel, is staring at the same scrap of black clothing that Rachel is. The look on her face is akin to awe, not believing that they're on the floor. Even more unbelievable is the fact that Rachel's nearly naked in her presence, shaking slightly with a subtle vulnerability that Quinn always feels the need to protect.

Her gaze leaves Rachel's ankles to slowly travel up creamy, tan legs. Breath quickening, Quinn slowly leans forward on the couch as her gaze travels to the two round globes of Rachel's ass. She stops breathing, nerves becoming much more active than they previously were. It's taking all she has to not walk forward. "Rachel…"

Rachel shivers, the breathy quality of Quinn's voice feeling like a caress to the most intimate places. "Yes, Quinn?" she replies unevenly, staring at her through the mirror once more. Her ever rational brain is telling her to just put clothes on. Whatever she and Quinn are exploring right now can be continued in her hotel room. But Quinn's look is nothing short of predatory and Rachel's literally frozen, waiting, anticipating.

She stands, hesitating on the first step but eventually making it to Rachel. Standing directly behind her, Quinn can literally feel Rachel's body heat seeping through her own clothing. Her eyes stray from Rachel's own through the mirror, roving over her body hungrily. When her eyes wander between Rachel's thighs a noise resonates from deep within her chest. A tentative hand reaches out and ghosts along Rachel's back, watching closely as she arches. That's all it takes.

In a blur Quinn has Rachel on top of the dresser, herself placed between tan thighs. Her tongue pistons in and out of Rachel's mouth as her fingers twist an erect nipple trough a purple bra once before traveling lower.

Quinn groans into Rachel's mouth, as if the wetness she finds literally hurts her. Rachel rips her mouth away from Quinn's, whimpering as her hips jerk.

"W-wait," she whispers, grabbing Quinn's hand suddenly.

She kisses her sloppily before Quinn can complain. "Let's go back to my hotel," she whispers against her lips.

Grunting her disapproval, Quinn kisses along Rachel's neck as her other hand finds her clit again. And sure, maybe this heated exchange is partly fueled by some other woman being in Rachel's room. Not that Quinn would admit that.

Rachel whines, partly because it feels good, partly because Quinn is making this difficult. "I want to do this in a bed," she continues. And sure, Rachel will be the first one to admit that she'd be more than willing to have sex with Quinn just about anywhere. She's all for new experiences and trying new things. But this moment feels important, far more intimate than what she and Quinn have had in the previous few months. Dressing room sex is for _not _for her girlfriend. At least not now, their first time engaging in this in seven years.

Her hands grasp both of Quinn's own and hazel eyes look up at her, wide and glazed. "I will not do this here," she says firmly. "If we are going to have sex—which I assume we are if your advances are any indication—then we are doing so in a bed. I think we both deserve as much."

She watches as Quinn's jaw works, obviously choosing her words carefully.

Quinn chews her lip. Having sex is what she intended, but when said aloud, it makes it more real. But it's what she wants, what she's been wanting. She squeezes Rachel's hand lightly, only being able to choke out one word. "Okay." 

* * *

><p>Her clothes are shed, hot kisses are littered across her body, and Rachel's hovering over her, knuckle deep before she knows it. Her eyes are screwed shut; her sweat beaded brow is furrowed. She grips the sheets beside her as she shudders slightly.<p>

Rachel watches her, a little bewildered, wondering if she's doing something wrong. For all the right signs of Quinn enjoying this, there are some wrong ones, too. Her body is stiff as a board and she's silent. In fact, she hasn't made much noise the entire time Rachel's been touching her. And it's not as if Rachel is conceited or anything, but she considers herself a very talented lover. She's attentive, passionate, and what she considers most important, giving. And although a lot about Quinn may have changed in the years they've been apart, Rachel thinks that she is at least the same vocal person she used to be. As a matter of fact, when they were together a month or so ago Quinn was _very _vocal.

Rachel's hand slows, concern getting the better of her as she wonders if she's doing something wrong. She looks down at Quinn, marveling at how beautiful she looks with her hair disheveled and sticking to her face, and the sexy way she's biting her lip.

She stops all together and calls her name gently. As dejected as she'll be, if Quinn's not enjoying herself then Rachel won't force her to continue.

Quinn only opens her now dark eyes halfway. She peers up at Rachel, some awareness coming to her. Rachel feels Quinn's inner muscles flutter around her finger as she moans lowly. "Please don't stop."

Her response is immediate as she adds another finger and thrusts at her previous pace. Her thumb brushes past Quinn's clit and her hips buck. Quinn's eyes fall shut once more as her bottom lip is taken between her teeth.

Rachel frowns slightly as she thrusts harder. Why isn't Quinn doing anything? She leans down, her breasts pressing against Quinn's own and pale thighs part further as her back arches. Rachel places her mouth against her ear. "I don't know where you picked this habit up from, Quinn," she breathes. A tremor moves through Quinn's body as she moans at the throaty emphasis that Rachel places on her name. "But I don't like it," she continues. "Open your mouth, baby. I want to hear your pleasure."

By the time she's finished Quinn's mouth is agape and she's panting, eyes closed. Rachel smiles down at her, thrusting her fingers deeper and curling them. Quinn's eyes fly open as her wild gaze finds Rachel's. Rachel's eyes dance as she thrusts harder, looking for the same reaction as she curls her fingers again. Her thumb presses down firmly against Quinn's swollen clit, rubbing in tight circles.

Quinn's hips can't stay still, meeting Rachel thrust for thrust, as she moans gutturally from the back of her throat. Her stomach coils tightly. "Another," she whispers.

She arches a dubious eyebrow but complies, squeezing her fingers together and slipping a third inside of her. Rachel moans at how tight of a fit her fingers are, stretching Quinn more fully. Quinn's back arches and she hooks a leg more fully around Rachel to bring her closer.

"Rachel, I'm so full," she whispers into her girlfriend's ear once a rhythm is set again.

Rachel smiles down at her, placing a kiss against her cheek. "That's my girl." She kisses along her jawline and up to her lips. They brush, push and pull against one another as Quinn is sent higher and higher.

Her panting turns to small cries as she feels her lower stomach coiling tighter and tighter. "Close," she whimpers. "Rachel, I'm so close." She wraps her legs around Rachel in an attempt to get her in deeper and Rachel moans quietly.

She's going to lose it, and she's going to lose it soon. Rachel's weight is so warm and welcome. She feels completely surrounded by the woman she loves and it's all so overwhelming. She's going to break. And her only hope is that Rachel will be there like she always promised she would.

Her whimpers become louder, a tell-tale sign as she listens to Rachel whisper quietly in her ear about how much she loves her and all the things she wants to do to her. And soon Quinn's moaning, writhing, barely breathing as she lets go, driven to completion by the breathy encouraged pleas of, "Come for me" murmured into her ear.

Her arms sling around Rachel, nails digging into her and Rachel hisses when she feels those blunt nails break skin. Ignoring the cause of what's probably going to have her sleeping on her stomach tonight, she smoothes back the hair sticking to Quinn's forehead, kissing the newly exposed patch of skin lovingly. Her other arm, wraps around Quinn as she holds her tightly. "I have you," is all she says.

Quinn's shuddery breath is one of relief as she lies back against the pillows, clutching Rachel to her. Her heart rate slows as takes deep, even breaths, holding Rachel tightly.

It's a full five minutes before anyone speaks again. "Are you alright?" Rachel asks her softly.

Months ago Quinn would have blown off Rachel's concern by deflecting and saying she's not a baby and can take care of herself. But here, now, sated, and holding the woman that's holding her, she whispers, "I'm fine," voice still scratchy.

She gently tilts Rachel's face to look up at her. Her lips slide against Rachel's own in a languid kiss, tongue slipping into Rachel's mouth and she sighs as she tastes herself from the fingers Rachel must have licked clean earlier.

"I love you," she whispers as she pulls back. "I love you so much." Her lips touch as many places on Rachel's face as she can and she swallows the sentiments Rachel whispers back with a deep kiss.

But it's okay because Rachel tells her again after that. Her hand sneaks down and traces the tattoo on Quinn's hip that her mouth became very familiar with earlier. Her mind spins at the thought of Quinn, her virtuous Quinn, having a tattoo. The Quinn she knew seven years ago wouldn't have thought twice about getting permanent ink on her body for anything or anyone. Yet here she is, seven years later with a gold star on her hip. Rachel's gold star. Her heart swells, noticing the subtle ways Quinn's always showed her love.

"I think you should get an _R_ tattooed in the center of the star." She tucks herself against Quinn's side, her head resting against her collarbone as she continues to trace the tattoo.

"Someone's narcissistic," Quinn replies dryly, watching her finger as she meticulously curls a lock of Rachel's hair around it.

Rachel snorts, rather unlady like, as she peers up at Quinn. "Says the woman that wanted her full name tattooed on me."

"That's not narcissism," Quinn argues lazily. "That's possessiveness and I sort of own that."

"Well I guess you would _own _that as well as everything else, wouldn't you?" she replies smartly.

"Not everything else. Just you." She smirks just the way she knows Rachel hates and laughs a little when Rachel rolls her eyes. "I'll get it though," she promises and is rewarded with a kiss.

It's quiet now, Quinn playing Rachel's hair and Rachel tracing Quinn's tattoo. Quinn bites her lip, trying not to say anything. But there's been something festering inside her for a while now and she finally knows what it is. "It must have hurt you," she whispers quietly.

Rachel's head turns quickly as she scrambles up Quinn's body to lay beside her, face to face. "What must have hurt?" she asks, confused.

Quinn runs a shaky hand through her hair. "The way I treated you."

"Oh." Rachel shakes her head back and forth before reaching for her. "Quinn, it's alright. You were just—"

"Don't make excuses for me," she says firmly. Her eyes keep flashing and Rachel wonders if she's angry or close to tears. She suspects the latter. "It hurt, didn't it?"

She nods her head slowly one time. And it did hurt. It _really _did. The fact that Rachel knew Quinn loved her was the only thing that kept her fighting the entire time. But that didn't mean that she never felt the urge to just give up, to just allow their love to digress into hate.

Quinn looks at Rachel's unfocused expression, knowing that she's replaying every moment to get a general idea of how much pain was generated. "I'm sorry," Quinn whispers. "All I can say is that I'm sorry."

"It's oka—"

"It's not okay," Quinn insists. "I hurt you when you were only trying to help me and that's not okay. You were so kind and giving and all I did was stomp on whatever feelings you had for me."

Rachel presses her lips against a bare shoulder, feeling the muscles in Quinn's body relax as she takes a deep breath and stops talking. "You were not the only guilty party," Rachel tells her. "And I'm no saint."

Quinn sighs wearily, slinging her other arm across her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I…wanted to hate you as much as you tried to hate me," Rachel admits quietly as she stares at the bed sheets. "You just…you weren't honest with me or yourself and you were tainting every memory I had of you, the ones I cherished."

"I'm sorry," whispers again, voice strained. "I'm so sorry."

Rachel removes Quinn's arm from her face and is unsurprised to see tears. She wipes them away gently, shushing Quinn's quiet hiccupping breaths. She watches Quinn, caught between the woman she is now, the woman she was months ago, and the youthful innocence and jovialness of her adolescence that was taken away.

"I didn't want to leave you," she sniffles.

Rachel runs her fingers through Quinn's hair in what she sincerely hopes is a soothing manner. "I know, Quinn."

"And I regretted it every day," she continues.

Rachel nods. "I know." She recognizes the fact that this has been weighing heavy on Quinn's heart for a while.

"I always loved you, okay? I never stopped."

She kisses Quinn silently, reassuringly. "I never stopped loving you, either."

Quinn looks at her with a mixture of helplessness and confidence that only she can pull off. "I never want to leave you again."

Rachel smiles tenderly. She kisses her again. "Then don't."

Once Rachel's sure she has Quinn calm, she lies back down beside her, catching her last tear before wrapping an arm around her and pulling the two of them closer. Emotionally and physically drained, they fall asleep quickly.

An hour later and a call from Santana has Quinn and Rachel scrambling to get their clothes on and back on the bus to prepare to leave the state. Because of scheduling conflicts that Quinn's sure could have been avoided if she still worked for Sue, Lima, Ohio is now the next stop.

It's harder to sleep on a tour bus with other people but Quinn and Rachel make it work. And Rachel's surprised that this whole night ever happened. She's surprised that Quinn was even allowed to go on tour with her. But she's even more surprised when she wakes up in the morning in Lima, Ohio without Quinn lying beside her. 

* * *

><p>She passes by the white picket fence, her heels clack against the pavement of the driveway as she walks on it, looking towards her right to look at the deep green, freshly cut grass. If the occupants of this house know how to do anything, it's keep up appearances.<p>

Squaring her shoulders she walks directly to the door, not feeling nearly as confident as she looks. Her palms are sweaty as she turns the door knob to see if it's open. And her heart is beating erratically when she rings the door bell once she realizes that it's not unlocked.

A voice calls, "Just a minute," before there's fumbling with the door from the inside a moment later. The door opens and a short, blonde woman with wisps of gray in her head stands at the door. She takes one look at the person standing in her doorway and gasps quietly. "Quinnie…"


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: **Converge

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **AU. Future fic. Rachel and Quinn used to date long ago but were forced to break up. Now Quinn works in the A&R department at a very successful record company. A new artist walks in hoping to get signed and changes Quinn's world. Previous and eventual R/Q.

**A/N: **This is the last chapter! I want to send a big thank you out to everyone that's reviewed the story on here! I got a few pms asking if I was going to post my other fics on here and to be honest, I don't really know at the moment. But if I do, I'll put a memo on my FFN profile page. Happy reading. :)

* * *

><p>She passes by the white picket fence, her heels clack against the pavement of the driveway as she walks on it, peering towards her right to look at the deep green, freshly cut grass. If the occupants of this house know how to do anything, it's keep up appearances.<p>

Squaring her shoulders she walks directly to the door, not feeling nearly as confident as she looks. Her palms are sweaty as she turns the door knob to see if it's open. And her heart is beating erratically when she rings the door bell once she realizes that it's not unlocked.

A voice calls, "Just a minute," before there's fumbling with the door from the inside a moment later. The door opens and a short, blonde woman with wisps of gray in her head stands at the door. She takes one look at the person standing in her doorway and gasps quietly. "Quinnie…"

Quinn's smile is anything but friendly as she stares down at the shorter woman. "I'm just going by Quinn now. It's nice to see you again, mother."

She walks forward, leaving Mrs. Fabray to either walk back and let her in or get knocked down. "What are you doing here?" she asks as steps back, watching Quinn close the door behind her.

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Where's father?" Her eyes roam over the house as she walks further inside, noting what's changed and what hasn't. A lot of pictures of her that they hung up once upon a time are gone. Her eyes pinch tightly as she walks into the living room and sits down.

Nonplussed and utterly nervous, Judy walks behind Quinn, smoothing her hair behind her ear. "Your father had to work, dear," she replies in a faux cheerful voice. "He'll be home soon." Her eyes dart to the clock anxiously. "Is there something I can quickly help you with?"

"Oh, don't even worry about it," Quinn answers with a wave of her hand, knowing exactly why Judy was looking at the clock. "I'll be staying for a while."

She nods hesitantly before walking towards her daughter. "Can I get you anything, dear?"

Quinn looks up at her from her seated position. "Do you still make tea? If so then I'd like a glass."

She watches briefly as Judy walks off to retrieve her beverage. She looks toward the stairs to her right that lead to her room and is hit with a sense of nostalgia, remembering all the times she and her sister would race to the top of the steps. She would always lose.

"Here you are," Judy says, already beside her. Quinn turns around, her brow furrowed as she accepts the cup, murmuring her thanks.

Judy sits down on a couch opposite Quinn. She studies her daughter carefully, noticing her tense shoulders, rigid posture, and cold eyes. Judy doesn't know why Quinn came back after swearing that she'd never step foot in the house again. But by Quinn's overall appearance, Judy suspects this visit won't be entirely pleasant.

"How have you been, Quinn?" she asks quietly. "It's been—"

"Seven years," Quinn says evenly, meeting her mother's gaze. "And I've been," she searches for the right word, "changing."

"Oh," she exclaims, assuming that Quinn is referencing her sexuality, something that's been a huge elephant in the room once she and Russell found out. "I'm assuming those changes have been for the better."

Quinn's small laugh lacks any humor. "The most recent changes have been for the better."

Judy nods. "I'm glad that you've been able to overcome your plight."

"I have," Quinn agrees slowly. "It took me a long time, and it took a lot of work from a very special person." Her eyes soften a little. "But I've come out a stronger person that's incredibly comfortable with who she is."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget that you're married?" She smiles. "How is your husband?"

Quinn takes a sip of her tea, a secretive smile hidden behind the white cup. "Kenneth and I have been divorced for over half a year."

Judy gawks at her, disbelievingly. When Quinn got married to Kenneth it was a relief to her and Russell. They sometimes wondered if sending Quinn to the boarding school in California was a good thing, having heard nothing from their daughter once she left Lima. But when they caught wind that Quinn had married a man, they were both relieved about the fact that their daughter had been broken out of her habit of liking women.

She sits her own cup down and crosses her legs. "May I ask why?"

Quinn shrugs. "He was a great husband and I'm sure he'll make some other woman very happy. But I didn't love him."

"Well, don't you worry. You're still young and beautiful, Quinn," Judy says reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll find another man that'll have you head over heels."

Quinn looks at Judy with a bored expression. She was trying to be subtle but it doesn't seem to be working. She sighs, smoothing out her skirt before looking up at her mother. "I don't need to find another man. I already have a girlfriend."

Judy's jaw drops. Her mouth opens and closes before her lips press into a hard line as she stares at Quinn. "I see."

Their attention is pulled towards the hallway as they hear the front door creak open.

* * *

><p>Puck and Santana sit on a couch in the Berry residence as they watch Rachel pace back and forth in front of them.<p>

"She's not answering her phone," Rachel says worriedly while she continues to walk and think…and talk.

Puck slouches back against the chair, folding his arms across his chest. If he's going to have to be there a while then he figures he better make himself comfortable. Santana crosses her arms as well, scowling as she looks elsewhere.

Rachel turns to them with a frown. "Have you heard from her at all today, Noah?"

"No, Berry," he says with a sigh. "I haven't heard from Quinn since I dropped her off at your concert yesterday."

"I knew it!" she exclaims as she tosses her hands up. "I've scared her away with everything that happened last night."

Santana unfolds her arms as she looks toward Rachel, noticing how she's falling apart at the seams. But mostly just wanting her to shut the hell up. "What happened last night?" she asks in an attempt to understand the situation.

Rachel stops in her tracks to look at Santana, then Puck. She walks toward the two and sits between them on the couch. She clasps her hands together in her lap, looking at them as she twiddles her thumbs. "Quinn and I were intimate last night," she says shyly.

"That's so hot."

Santana looks past Rachel to glower at Puck as Rachel turns to look at him. "While I am well aware that lesbian sex is sexually appealing to most men, I kindly ask that you not objectify my relationship with Quinn with your obscene outbursts, Noah."

He stares down at her with a confused expression. "What did you just say?"

"She said quit thinking about her having sex with Quinn," Santana says scathingly.

"Alright, damn," he replies defensively. "If you wanted me to think about you and your girlfriend instead, all you had to do was say so."

"First of all, you don't even know what my girlfriend looks like. Second of all, if you try to picture me having sex with someone, I'll kick you in the—"

"Santana, Noah. Can we all get back to the matter at hand?" Rachel asks. "Where is Quinn?"

"You have to remember she's been going through a lot lately, Rachel," Puck tells her. "She's recently admitted to being gay, she has a girlfriend now, she just got fired from work. And also—"

"Fired?" she exclaims. "Quinn was _fired_ from work? She's _unemployed_? When did this happen?"

"I need a drink." Santana stands up, smoothing her hair back into its ponytail. Her ears are ringing at this point. "I'll be in the kitchen. Try not to upset her more than you already have, Puck."

He watches her leave, discretely checking her out before turning back to Rachel. He watches as she hangs her head, fingers playing with the edge of her skirt as her shoulders droop. "Hey," he says softly. "Are you okay?"

"Why doesn't she tell me anything?" she asks quietly. "I'm her girlfriend. Am I not worth divulging any and all idiosyncrasies of her life to?"

"She loves you," he tells her.

"I don't doubt that."

"She trusts you."

"Sure," she agrees. "She trusts me enough to know that I'll be faithful to her while on tour. She doesn't trust me enough to tell me that she got fired."

It's quiet for a moment, with Puck having no other way to console Rachel and Rachel lost in her own thoughts. "Do you know why she was fired? It seems to have come from nowhere."

"I kept asking why Sue fired her, but every time I brought it up she'd either tell me none of my business or it was for a stupid reason."

"She doesn't tell you everything, either," she notes, finding small solace in the fact that Quinn isn't like this with only her.

"No," Puck says with a grin. "She's an asshole like that sometimes."

They both share a companionable laugh before falling into silence once more. Rachel worries her bottom lip as she contemplates giving Quinn another call.

* * *

><p>Quinn stands up as she watches a tall, burly shadow dance along the walls before her father appears in the archway leading into the living room. She watches him closely, looking for anything that might give away what he's feeling.<p>

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. If anything, his features harden even if it's just a little. "Judy," he says without acknowledging Quinn. "I see we have a visitor. Can you kindly ask her to leave?"

Judy turns to Quinn with a solemn look on her face. "Quinnie, it was nice seeing you again. But maybe you should do as your father says."

Quinn ignores her mother. She instead continues to focus on her father with a mixture of trepidation and defiance. "I think I'll stay," she says quietly.

"Quinn—"

"What are we having for dinner?" she asks, cutting her mother off as she walks past Russell with squared shoulders and into the kitchen.

She situates herself at the table, watching as her father sits at the head of the table just as he used to. He stares at Quinn for a long moment, bracing his elbows on the table. "You're back."

"I'm visiting," she corrects.

His jaw works back and forth as he mulls over her few words. "Why are you here?"

"Well, you see," she starts, giving a small thank you to Judy when a plate of food is sat in front of her. "My girlfriend's on tour and one of her stops is Lima so—"

"Girlfriend."

She nods, breath quickening in fear. She picks a fork up, white knuckle gripping it as she sifts through a pile of mashed potatoes on her plate. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Russell pushes his plate back with both hands, Quinn's words having caused him to lose his appetite. "Is this why you came back here?" he asks coldly. "To further solidify your status as an abomination to this family?"

Her head shakes minutely back and forth, eyes clenching shut as she takes a deep breath. She exhales, lifting her head to look at her father. "That's not why I came here."

Agitation colors his face as he leans forward. "Then why are you here?"

Her mouth opens and shuts as she searches for the words that fail her. The reason she came back never even occurred to her. Possibly closure; she isn't sure. "I don't know," she whispers falteringly.

"Then allow me to show you the door."

Russell takes an authoritative stand, looming over Quinn and the table as he walks over to her. His eyes flicker as he meets her own. He chuckles bitterly. "When you were seven years old, you came home crying to me because Rachel kissed you on the lips. Remember that?"

Quinn inhales deeply, recalling the long buried memory from when she and Rachel were children, best friends. She remembers Rachel complimenting the single braid she had in her hair that day before leaning in for a light, innocent peck on the lips. Even as a child, Quinn wasn't particularly one for affection from other children, much like little boys and their dislike for the opposite sex until a certain age. The kiss had been unwanted and ill-received.

"Your exact words were 'I didn't like it, daddy,'" he says, imitating her voice. Quinn's lip twitches as she remembers crying on his shoulder for all of ten minutes. He shushed her sobs, dried her eyes, then told her to go play. Something he neglected to do when he found out she was a lesbian.

She watches a quiet smile form on his lips. "I patted you on the back, replaced her kiss with one of my own and told you to stop crying. You hugged me tight and told me I was the best daddy ever before going back outside to play."

His smile is replaced with a frown as he glares down at her. "If I had known that Rachel would have kept chomping at the bit until you ended up just like her then I would have put a stop to your sordid friendship with her."

"That's enough," Quinn says harshly. Talking about her is one thing, but talking about Rachel is an entirely different matter.

Judy watches from afar, withering at the battle of will she knows is about to take place.

"I never liked to compare you and your sister," Russell starts quietly. "I didn't think it was a fair thing to do. But I used to always wonder what Judy and I must have done differently. What had we done so wrong for you to turn out the way you did."

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Quinn cries loudly, taking a commanding step forward. "I'm just as normal and well adjusted as she is!"

"You're not!" he shouts back. "You walk around with your girlfriend thinking that your life is normal and it's _not. _How you can so easily turn your back on what we've taught you is beyond me."

The air pushes past her lips in a quiet growl and all of her fear and hesitation is replaced with rage that's so hot it has her blood boiling. "Nothing came easily for me! I was by myself in that damn boarding school for two years. You have no idea what they did to me!" Scalding tears prick her eyes as she swallows a lump in her throat. "I had to go to therapy to undo what you did to me. Don't you _dare _say that _anything _I went through was easy."

Her chest heaves up and down as small tears escape her eyes. She quickly blinks them away as she stares at her father. "Is this why you came here?" he asks calmly. "To make us feel guilty? You chose to live the harder life when you chose to be gay."

"I didn't choose to be anything but an A&R at a record company," she refutes. "I didn't choose to be gay," she continues. "The best I can say is that I was born that way. I didn't choose to leave this house, I was kicked out. I didn't choose that boarding school, it was chosen for me."

"Furthermore, I didn't _choose _to love Rachel. It just happened. However, I _do _choose and I _did _choose to be with her. Past, present, and future."

The obvious implication isn't lost on Russell. His mouth twitches downward before he responds. "What? You think you're going to marry her or something? And where are you going to do that?"

"There are places that allow gay marriage, father," she grits out. "Not everyone is as intolerant as you are."

"Great," he replies mockingly, throwing his hands up. "Then you have your life all figured out, Quinn. Leave."

She stares at him, her eyes mapping his face as if to memorize it before turning to her mother. An imperceptible, almost apologetic smile touches her lips as she watches the obvious grief on her mother's face at losing her child a second time.

She walks toward the door, taking shallow breaths. "All I ever wanted," she adds absentmindedly while turning back around, "was for the both of you to love me. All I ever _needed_ were parents to pat me on the back and tell me it would be okay."

Streaks of tears fall from her chin onto the collar of her freshly pressed blouse. "I didn't choose to be gay," she croaks out. "As a matter of fact, if I had a choice, I would have chosen to be straight. Simply because it's the easier life to live. Hell, I even _tried _to be straight. But it didn't work."

Russell watches the display, unmoved by the bitter, watery smile that shines on Quinn's lips. "But it doesn't matter now. Gay, straight, I found someone—no, I rediscovered someone that loves me for me. She doesn't try to change me, but merely asks me to just be who I am and be happy with the person I am. And I am. I'm happy."

She reaches behind her to fumble for the cold door knob, staring her father in the eye. "Oh, and daddy? I don't work for the record company anymore. I think I want to be a teacher," she mutters shyly, nervous, but eager to leave behind the final remnants of her old life.

Her mother breaks out of her self-imposed silence to ask her, "What kind of money do you stand to generate in today's economy as a teacher, Quinn?"

She sighs. Her shoulders slump, just a little. The fire in her eyes dims just a tad as she's reminded, even on her way out of the door, why she can't live in Ohio, why she can't coexist with her parents, and why she needs Rachel.

The door shuts quietly behind her as she walks toward the curb to her ride, one of Rachel's security guards waiting for her. Even as she pulls off she doesn't look back.

* * *

><p>The door to the Berry household creaks open and concerned brown eyes meet red-rimmed, puffy hazel ones as Quinn enters. As soon as she passes the threshold she's pulled into a tight hug. "Oh honey," Dale murmurs as he gently pats her hair in the fashion of a loving father. "Rachel's been worrying us to death about you for hours."<p>

A muffled, "Sorry" is spoken into his shoulder as Quinn loosely returns the embrace.

"It's alright," Dale assures her warmly. "As long as you're safe."

Rachel watches the exchange happening in the hallway with a mixture of concern and relief etched onto her features. She walks forward, grabbing her father's elbow and gently tugging. The next thing she feels is a slight weight as Quinn leans heavily against her, seemingly searching for support as slim arms wrap around her.

Rachel returns the embrace just as urgently, having thought the worst after not seeing Quinn for the entire day.

"Daddy, can you give us a moment?"

"Of course. Take care of her, Rach." He passes by them, giving Rachel's shoulder a light squeeze before walking into the living room to join his husband.

A moment later and faint humming is the only sound reaching Quinn's ears as her grip on the back of Rachel's shirt tightens. She viciously wipes at a single tear.

"Where have you been?" Rachel murmurs into her ear.

"My parents."

The quiver in Quinn's voice is easily detected. "I suppose this was not an ideal visit."

"They're exactly the same," she replies scornfully.

Rachel nods, pulling back to look up into Quinn's eyes. "This is a small town, Quinn. Ideas on something as controversial as homosexuality are not likely to change."

Quinn's shoulders heave. "They called me an abomination."

"You're beautiful," Rachel counters easily.

"We're not talking about my looks, Rachel."

"Inside and out," Rachel continues, ignoring her. "You are a highly respected woman and a proud one at that. I'm sure that because your parents are the ones saying cruel and hurtful things to you that those words will have some clout, but allow me to reassure you. You are the farthest thing from an abomination, Quinn."

Her lips curve upwards a fraction. "They're idiots."

"They're ignorant," Rachel gently corrects.

She sighs agitatedly as she stares at Rachel. "No. We're not going to make excuses for how they act or how they treat us."

Rachel warily watches Quinn's rapidly stiffening posture, quickened breath, and intense gaze. Recognizing that this isn't an argument that her girlfriend plans on losing, she switches tactics. She leans forward, slowly tucking a stray lock behind Quinn's ear. "You don't have to see them again if you don't want to."

Quinn instantly deflates with a long exhale. "I don't think I'm going to," she says quietly. "I don't even know why I went today in the first place."

"You needed closure," Rachel says calmly. "It is a common human condition to return to a place of high traumatic importance to a person in hopes of rectifying something deep inside themselves and—"

A loud groan is heard as Quinn actually bites her tongue to keep from telling her girlfriend to just be quiet.

Her point gets across though, if Rachel's small pout is any indication. Quinn offers a smile of gratitude for her efforts before pulling back from the embrace. "I think I just want to sleep."

She walks further into the house, noticing the Monopoly board game on the living room table and Rachel's fathers huddled around it. She waves awkwardly as she takes in the disrupted atmosphere. "It's game night, isn't it?" she asks as she turns to Rachel. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I can just go and—"

"Have a seat, Quinn," Gavin says warmly from his position on the couch. "We need someone around here that's not afraid to put Rachel in her place when she starts complaining about losing."

Rachel's eyes narrow competitively at her father as she grabs Quinn's hand tightly. "We'll just see who the loser will be this game, father," she replies haughtily as she and Quinn sit down to a game.

* * *

><p>It comes as a surprise to everyone that Rachel Berry loses yet <em>another <em>game of Monopoly. It takes ten minutes of arguing and Quinn grabbing her by the waist and practically dragging her up the stairs to get Rachel into her bedroom.

"Quinn, I was cheated! Surely you know this."

Quinn glances over her shoulder from her place at Rachel's window to look over at her girlfriend with a dubious expression. "It's pretty hard and damn near impossible to cheat in a game of Monopoly, Rachel. All you do is move around the board, buy property and collect money. Or in your case, _pay _money. And a lot of it."

Rachel scowls at Quinn for making fun of her as she walks over to her. She strokes her hair gently before moving it aside to place a kiss on the column of her throat. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replies with a tired sigh. "I just won't go back there again."

There isn't really a surprise about how much better she feels. Quinn's learned by now how much Rachel's able to improve her mood with just a few words. Though Rachel rarely uses _few _words. Her very presence is sometimes enough to calm Quinn.

"You never told me you were fired from work."

Her tired eyes crack open with Quinn lacking knowledge of when they even closed. She turns to Rachel with a weary expression. "It's not important. I'll get another job."

She receives a nod as nimble fingers continue to play with her hair. Rachel moves to tuck her head along Quinn's collarbone when slim arms wrap around her waist. "Why were you fired?"

"Another thing that's not important."

"Is it because of me?"

Quinn shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and Rachel takes that as an affirmative. Her expression turns to horror and she pulls back to look at Quinn. "You were fired because of _me_? Is it because of our relationship? I will call Sue Sylvester tomorrow! Who does she think she is, firing the most competent A&R she had—"

"Are you done?" Quinn interrupts.

"I…Quinn this is important."

She smiles enigmatically before turning back to the window, pulling Rachel closer again. "You're not calling Sue to give her a piece of your mind. That would be stupid and it's sure to get you kicked off the label."

Rachel busies herself with undoing the top most button on Quinn's blouse as her words soak in. "But…that was your job," she fights back weakly.

"I didn't even like that job," Quinn says quietly. "I already told you that the only reason I worked the job was to be closer to you. But I have you now. So, what's the point?"

Rachel smiles despite herself, shoulders squaring a little with pride. She pops two more buttons, slipping her hand inside the shirt and pressing her warm palm against Quinn's chest. "But what are you going to do now?"

Quinn blushes, focusing on the full moon outside the window. "I want to teach," she murmurs. "I already have a Bachelor's in education."

Rachel's finger runs along the cup of Quinn's black bra. "I've already told you that I think you would be a phenomenal teacher."

"Yeah?" Quinn squirms a little against the almost ticklish touch.

"Absolutely."

Her eyes prickle a bit as she looks up at the sky once more.

Rachel reaches up to cup both of Quinn's cheeks in her hand before leaning forward and kissing her thoroughly. Her tongue sweeps across Quinn's lower lip, gaining access a moment later and moaning into the kiss when she feels eager hands grab onto the back of her neck. She kisses her fully, giving as much as she takes, becoming full off of Quinn's love as she allows Quinn to fill up on hers.

"I love you," Rachel says assuredly as she pulls back, weaving her slender fingers through Quinn's.

She laughs a little, looking down toward Rachel and smiling at how their height difference is only noticeable when they stand impossibly close as they are now. Her cheeks tint pink as she murmurs, "Not half as much as I love you."

Rachel's eyes squint, a rebuttal on the tip of her tongue because she's certain she loves Quinn more and has no qualms about arguing her side, complete with a pie chart that accurately shows the distribution of their love. But it's late, Quinn's tired, and she doesn't have said pie chart ready just yet. Besides, there will be plenty of time to argue her point in the morning.

Instead, she tugs her girlfriend away from the window and towards her bed. And Quinn welcomes the much needed sleep, allowing the next day to be the first day of the rest of her life. A life that she's still becoming accustomed to, but one she's determined to spend with the woman she loves. 


End file.
